


Fly Before You Walk

by Misha Berry (MishaDerps)



Series: Reaching For Horizons [1]
Category: DCU, DCU (Comics), Superboy (Comics), Superman (Comics), Superman - All Media Types, Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: (at first), (like one little smack but still tagging it), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Animal Abuse, Bruce Wayne is a Good Dad, Child Abuse, Clark Kent is a crap dad, Father Figures, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Kidnapping, Learning how to be a parent, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panic Attacks, Parent-Child Relationship, cloning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-25
Updated: 2017-10-09
Packaged: 2018-12-06 17:36:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 60,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11605539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MishaDerps/pseuds/Misha%20Berry
Summary: When an alarm goes off in Cadmus Labs, Batman thinks it's the perfect time to go snooping around. He has no idea what he's about to uncover, and how much it's going to change the life of Clark Kent.Clark must now navigate the trials and tribulations of parenthood, and come to terms with some nasty feelings he might harbour.*This takes place entirely within the Young Justice continuity.*





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Young Justice was my modern introduction into DC (not counting Teen Titans when I was a wee bean), and therefore my introduction to Superboy. Even before I got into the comics, I was unhappy with the way Superman treated him. Now that I've read the comics, I'm still not happy. Someone please parent this child. So this is me self-indulgently fixing the Young Justice universe and giving Superboy the childhood he deserves (hopefully without taking away from his backstory and character arc). I've never written a fic that focusses on Superboy or Superman, though I've written a bit of their characters in the past, so we'll see how well I manage this. Wish me luck and enjoy!

Despite what one might think, Batman didn’t always have a plan. Sometimes, if the situation called for it, he could wing it pretty good. He certainly preferred to have a plan, for sure, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t improvise. It helped his image as the Dark Knight that he always seemed to have meticulously planned everything down to the minutia, but no one could be that well prepared, even Batman.

So, when an alarm went off at the Cadmus Lab, Batman figured it was a good excuse as any to go poking around. He was in the Watchtower, not doing much of anything but monitor duty (which he didn’t really have to do because Wonder Woman was technically on duty), it wouldn’t take him long at all to get to DC. Martian Manhunter was around, as well as Black Canary; they were reasonably stealthy and also didn't have much going on at the moment. He called them in and explained his suspicions about Cadmus, and why now was a great time to go snooping around.

“So you want us to join you in infiltrating a lab you sort of suspect is doing something nefarious because a little alarm went off and you think it’s the perfect time to get your nose into their business?” Black Canary asked, raising a perfectly sculpted blonde eyebrow at him.

“That’s an accurate summary,” Batman said. He always liked that about Dinah, she knew how to cut through the bullshit (even his).

Black Canary eyed him for a few more moments, “Eh, what the hell. I’m bored and there’s nothing on TV.”

* * *

“I hate your entire existence,” Black Canary hissed at Batman as they hid in a little corner of the massive hallway of the secret underground structure they’d found underneath Cadmus.

“We should keep moving,” Batman said, only feeling a little guilty for dragging them both into this mess.

“To be fair, this does prove Batman right,” Martian Manhunter pointed out, “Cadmus has created a veritable army of these ‘genomorphs’,” he said, “I can feel their minds talking. Some of them are telepaths.”

“What do you think they’re for?” Black Canary asked.

“I don't know, nothing good,” Batman said. He hated not knowing, but that was precisely the reason they were here.

They quieted down as a group of the genomorphs rushed passed their hiding spot. Batman signaled them to move into a different spot as some of broke off to search the offshoot hallway they were hiding in. They seemed pretty agitated.

“They are searching for something,” Manhunter said.

“Us?” Batman asked. It would make sense after all.

Manhunter shook his head, “No, not something that broke in, something that escaped.”

Batman frowned, “It’s probably what set off the alarm,” he said, “Can you find out what it is?”

“Not without alerting them to my presence,” Manhunter said.

“Whatever it is, it’s probably dangerous,” Black Canary said, “Why don’t we find it before they do and put a stop to it?”

“First we should find out what  _ it _ is,” Batman said, stealthily making his way over to a nearby computer terminal. It took him a minute to hack into the server, but the firewalls eventually relented. He scanned through the data, trying to ascertain what it was that was causing such a fuss.

“There, Project Kr,” Manhunter said, having read over Batman’s shoulder, “I keep hearing whispers of that.”

“Big K little R,” Batman mused, “The atomic symbol for Krypton.”

“Three guesses if this has something to do with the big blue boyscout, and the first two don’t count,” Black Canary said, “I guess we’re heading to sublevel 52?”

Batman said nothing and signaled for them to make their way to the elevator. They managed to avoid being spotted, even with all of the activity going on. Whatever Project Kr was, it was definitely important and almost certainly extremely dangerous.

They eventually found their way to sublevel 52 and started making their way around. It was hard to tell where they should go when they weren’t sure what they were looking for.

Movement in Batman’s periphery made him jerk to a stop, turning quickly to asses what it was. Down the hall, a humanoid figure with tall horns watched them. Batman tensed for a fight, for it (him?) to alert the others. Instead, it turned down a hall to it’s left, walking briskly.

“He wants us to follow,” Manhunter said, “He is a telepath.”

“We follow at a distance,” Batman said, not liking this at all. He didn’t sense a trap, but he didn't trust the situation either.

Cautiously, they followed behind the strange humanoid (its outward appearance suggested male, but it was probably wrong to assume the gender identity of something that wasn’t human and therefore didn’t necessarily conform to human gender conventions). It showed them to a large vault door that was slightly ajar, voices floating out from inside. It stopped and waited for them to approach, before slinking off into the shadows.

Batman watched it leave before turning his attention to the conversation inside. He tapped a few commands on his wrist computer and activated the reconnaissance mode that amplified his hearing.

“—understand how it escaped!” a male voice yelled, sounding extraordinarily agitated.

“Could he have just woken up on his own?” another voice asked. Vocal recognition pinned it as Guardian, a known hero, but that couldn’t be right. While Batman had confirmed that Guardian was Head of Security for Cadmus, if he had known about anything like this, he would have come to the League with it.

“Don’t be stupid, it doesn’t have the control to do that. We control it’s every thought, every move. There’s no way it could have just walked out of here!” the first voice said.

“Maybe he didn’t,” Guardian said, “Maybe someone woke him up and set him loose.”

“Ridiculous!” the first voice shouted, “Nothing goes on in this compound without the G-Gnomes knowing about it, and therefore nothing happens without  _ my _ knowing about it! There is no insubordination here! Not under my watch!”

A moment of silence passed, “Nothing happens without you knowing about it,” Guardian intoned, but it sounded odd, flat, like a strange mantra.

“Guardian is not in his own mind,” Manhunter whispered, “He is being telepathically manipulated.”

That would explain why he hasn’t contacted the League, “Can you break the control they have over him?” Batman asked.

“I could try, but the telepathic creature, the G-Gnome, would know it and could possibly alert the others.”

Batman set his jaw, unhappy with that answer, “So what now?” Black Canary asked.

“I need to get a look at what’s in there,” Batman said, “There will be clues to the nature of Project Kr that I need to see.”

“I can go in,” Manhunter said, disappearing in the next second. Batman went back to listening to the two men in the room talking.

“Look, I get we need to find him and bring him back, but does he really need to go back into that thing?” Guardian asked.

“The weapon isn’t done maturing yet. What use is it when it’s at that size?” the first voice asked.

“I don't know, locking him back up seems kind of cruel,” Guardian said, “He’s just a—”

“That’s enough out of you for now,” the first voice said. Another paused followed.

“That thing belongs in a cage!” Guardian shouted. There were footsteps as he came towards the door. Batman signaled to Black Canary, who nodded and got into position.

As Guardian passed, Black Canary sprung, getting him into a headlock and dragging him aside. The little G-Gnome on his shoulder squawked, but Batman managed to grab it before it ran off, spraying it with a small dose of knockout gas, rendering it unconscious. Guardian struggled for a moment before he stilled, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Ugh, feels like fog lifting,” he said. He blinked his eyes open and looked up at Black Canary and Batman, “What are you two doing here?”

“Three,” Manhunter said, phasing through the wall, “There is some sort of containment unit in the room. It looks as though whatever was in it escaped.”

Batman turned to Guardian, “What is Project Kr?” he asked.

“It’s—” Guardian groaned and brought a hand up to his head, “Some kind of weapon. I can’t remember the specifics. I think the G-Gnome tried to erase my memories before you knocked it out.”

“Is there anything else you know?” Batman asked, “Does it have to do anything with Superman?”

Guardian was quiet a moment, “Yes,” he said, “It was made with DNA collected from Superman.”

“Shit,” Black Canary said, “A Kryptonian genetic weapon is bad enough on it’s own, but this one is loose.”

Batman scowled, “I think it’s time to contact the League.”

* * *

Bringing the entire Justice League down on top of Cadmus might have been overkill, but Batman didn't want to take any chances. The Kryptonian ‘weapon’ was still loose, and if any of them encountered it, depending on what it was, it could be very dangerous.

That being said, the downside to the entire Justice League coming was that it was very difficult to be stealthy. This gave Desmond, the lead scientist and the man Batman had heard speaking to Guardian in Project Kr, enough time to wipe the internal server and take something called the Blockbuster formula, turning himself into some sort of monster. He’d done quite a bit of damage before they managed to subdue him.

Batman was assessing the damage to the servers, and it wasn't as bad as he thought it would be, but little bits and pieces were missing from thousands of projects. There was something they were trying to hide, but Batman could focus on that later, right now he needed to know more about Project KR. Unfortunately, that was one file where most of the information had been removed.

“So far as I can tell, Project Kr is a genetic experiment created from the harvested DNA of Superman,” Batman explained over the comma, “We have reason to believe it’s still in the building, but we don't know where. Split into pairs and search, but stay cautious. We don't know where it is, what it’s capable of, or what it wants. If you find it, contact the rest of the League immediately.”

Obediently, they split into pairs, mostly ones who had worked well together in the past. Superman teamed up with Batman, but even working with his longtime friend couldn't ease the tension in his shoulders.

“This is my fault,” Superman said, “I should be looking alone.”

“That would take too long,” Batman pointed out, “We’ll find it much faster if we all work together.”

“This thing could be dangerous. If we have to fight it, I should be the one to take it down,” Superman said. He didn't like the idea of this thing, whatever it was, fighting one of his teammates and possibly killing them.

“We don't know if it’s hostile,” Batman said, “But I imagine if it is, there's very little anyone could do to stop you from taking the brunt of it.”

Superman squared his shoulders, “This thing is made from me, so it’s my responsibility.”

Batman’s mouth twitched, “That’s what everyone likes about you Clark.”

* * *

“Did you see how worked up Supes was?” Flash asked as he and Green Lantern explored sublevel 48. It was slow going, Batman wanted them to be thourough, though it was killing Flash to go so slow.

“Wouldn't you be?” Green Lantern countered, “We’re in an underground lab looking for a weapon that was made from his DNA. I think he’s allowed to be tense.”

Flash sighed, “Yeah, no kidding. The only other living Kryptonian and it’s a genetic weapon that probably eats faces or something.”

“Sucks to be him right now,” Green Lantern said, “But do we have any idea what this thing is?”

Flash shook his head, “Not at all, we have no idea what it can do or what it even looks like.”

“Great, we’re going to be down here forever,” Green Lantern grumbled, “This sucks.”

Flash rolled his eyes, “Yeah well, take it up with Bats, he’s the one who decided to snoop around.”

Green Lantern wrinkled his nose, “No thanks. He creeps me out.”

“Of course he does, that’s his thing,” Flash said, “That’s like saying I outrun everyone. It’s literally what I do. Scaring people is what he does.”

Green Lantern grumbled and they lapsed into silence for a while, “You know, I still don't know how he got to be such a high ranking member of the League. He doesn't even have powers!”

“Hal, I'm not having this discussion with you again,” Flash said, willing away the migraine that was starting to form.

“I’m just saying—” Green Lantern stopped, head jerking up, “Did you hear that?”

Flash looked up, “No I didn’t—” there was a clattering noise from down the hall, “Okay, yeah, heard that.”

Green Lantern materialized a baseball bat (“A bat? Really Hal?”) and stepped cautiously towards the noise. It sounded small, so hopefully it was just another one of those genomorph things, but he had to be prepared anyway. Flash came up at his side, energy thrumming under his skin, ready to strike at the first sign of danger.

There was another clattering noise and they noticed a fuel cell tip over. Green Lantern raised the bat and signalled to Flash, who cautiously crept forward, ready for anything. He was decidedly not ready for a little face to peer out timidly from behind the stacks of fuel cells.

“A kid?” Green Lantern said in disbelief, “What the heck is a kid doing down here?”

Flash immediately dropped his aggressive stance, instead adopting a more open, non-threatening posture, “Hey there kiddo,” he called, “It’s okay, you don’t have to be scared. We’re the good guys.”

The child was maybe about ten years old, with black hair and startling blue eyes. It was hard to tell their gender due to the dark and the child’s youth, but Flash was going to go with ‘male’, since that seemed to fit. He was wearing some kind of white body suit that was glowing oddly, and crouched behind the stacks of fuel cells, knees up to his chest.

“Where did you come from?” Flash asked, dropping down to match the boy’s height and shuffling closer slowly, “Do you know where your mommy is?”

The boy frowned deeply and shook his head, glancing over Flash’s shoulder at Green Lantern, who still had the baseball bat materialized. Flashed glared until Green Lantern gave a sheepish smile and turned the bat into a bunny, making it hop up to the child and nuzzle it’s fluffy head at his hands.

“See, we won’t hurt you,” Green Lantern said, smiling a bit as the child hesitantly reached out to pat the green bunny. He seemed completely enraptured by the feeling of the construct’s soft green fur.

“Can you tell us your name, kiddo?” Flash asked, inching forward a little more.

The child looked up; the frown was back, and he shook his head. Flash didn't like where this was starting to go, “Do you know how you got down here?” he asked.

The child seemed to think for a moment and then shrugged. Flash gritted his teeth and counted to ten (which took him about one second in real time), “You hungry? Why don’t you come out of there and we’ll find you something to eat, huh?” He didn't want to leave this kid here, not when there was a Kryptonian genetic weapon on the loose that would crush a small child like this.

There was a pause as the child seemed to consider it. Slowly, cautiously, he unfolded himself and crawled forward, his movements a little jerky and odd, like he wasn’t used to moving around. Flash had left him enough room to crawl out of his little hiding spot (it wasn't a good idea to block the exit, as that would only make the boy feel trapped), so he didn't have to move as the boy came out into the bigger part of the hall.

“There we go, see? Nothing to be scared o—” Flash’s words died in his throat as he finally got a look at the child’s chest. Emblazoned on the front of his body suit was the iconic red ‘S’ shield of the Man of Steel himself. A dozen lines of thought clicked into place at once.

“Holy shit,” Green Lantern said from behind him, “Is that—? Is this kid—?”

“I think he is,” Flash said. The child seemed to sense their unease and started to retreat, “No no, it’s okay,” Flash said, “We’re not going to hurt you, it’s alright.”

Flash extended a hand out to the boy, mind still reeling with their discovery. The boy looked down at the offered hand and slowly reached out to take it. Flash slowly wrapped his fingers around the small hand and gently tugged the boy from his hiding place, pulling him into his lap and holding him close, rubbing his back to soothe whatever nerves might be lingering. The boy was tense for a moment before he quickly relaxed, pressing himself further into the contact, like he’d never known anything like it. There was a sour taste in Flash’s mouth as he realized that he probably hadn’t known anything like it ever before.

“Call the others,” Flash said quietly, “I think we found what we were looking for.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was the introduction. More will be explained in the coming chapter, so y'all just sit tight. Also, writing Hal and Barry was a lot more fun than I thought it was going to be.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm having a bit more trouble with this fic than I thought I would, but it's still early, and I'm a bit distracted with work and back-to-school, so maybe that accounts for it.
> 
> Warning for discussions of bodily violation (and I guess violation of bodily autonomy?)

Batman was just finishing up inspecting sublevel 38 when Flash called in over the comms, “Guys, I think we found the . . . we found it.”

“Are you sure?” Superman asked, eyebrows furrowing. Batman could feel the tension that had been radiating off of him spike in intensity.

“We’re sure,” Green Lantern said, “We’re going to bring . . .  _ him _ up to the main floor.”

“Is that a good idea? Maybe we should meet you down there?” Superman suggested. Batman had a feeling that there was more to this than they’d previously thought.

“No, not a good idea. I think that would only scare him,” Flash said, “We’ll meet you on the main floor.”

“Alright,” Batman said before Superman could protest anymore, “We’ll all head up to the main floor.”

“One last thing,” Flash said, “This . . . he’s not hostile or dangerous. So everyone just be chill okay? No need to scare the little guy.”

Superman looked up at Batman in confusion, as though he might know what the hell Flash was talking about, “Acknowledged. Batman out,” he said, before closing the comm. He turned and headed to the elevator.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Superman asked, “We don't know what this thing is capable of.”

“We don’t, but we don't really have a choice,” Batman said, “We have to trust that Flash is making the right call.”

“And Green Lantern?” Superman asked with a small smirk.

Batman didn't dignify that with an answer and kept heading for the elevator. He didn’t like not knowing what was going on, but he was starting to have his suspicions.

The rest of the League had already gathered by the time that Flash and Green Lantern made their way up. Everyone was getting a little antsy waiting for them, worried that they might have been hurt. Finally, Green Lantern walked into the main floor that had been cleared of the debris that had been made in the fight against Blockbuster. He looked a little frazzled.

“Sorry it took so long,” he said, “Getting this guy to follow us up here has been a bit of an ordeal.”

“So what is it?” Green Arrow asked, “This weapon?”

“It’s . . .” Green Lantern scratched the back of head, “It’s better if you just see for yourself,” he said.

Just then, Flash came through through the hall leading to the elevator. A small figure was next to him, but the moment it saw the large group of brightly coloured superheroes it skittered back behind the corner, “No no no, it’s okay,” Flash said, stopping and turning back, “No one is going to hurt you. We’re all friendly here.”

Green Lantern ran a hand through his already messed up hair, “Like I said, it’s been an ordeal getting him to follow us,” he said, “He’s very skittish.”

Flash finally came around the corner, this time holding the hand of the little figure from before. There was a collective gasp as they realized that it was a child, maybe ten years old, the red ‘S’ on his chest and the spitting image of one Superman (or what he must have looked like at that age).

“Is that what I think it is?” Batman asked, not shocked by now, not with all of the evidence that had piled up, but a little disbelieving nonetheless.

“We think so,” Flash said, “It would make sense, right?”

The boy stared up at them, all but hiding behind Flash. He seemed steady enough on his feet, but his movement’s were jerky and uncoordinated, like he wasn’t used to having the freedom to move on his own. He looked around at them before stopping, wide eyed, at Superman. The Man of Steel had been frozen in shock since the boy had come from around the corner, mind a blank screen as he tried to process exactly what the boy in front of him was.

The child, seeing Superman, cautiously came out from behind Flash, marching with an odd gait up to him, all the while staring as if in wonder. He stopped when he was about a foot in front of him, craning his neck to look up into Superman’s face. The difference in size between the two of them was so big it was almost laughable.

The boy opened his mouth and small noise came out. He stopped, looking surprised at his own voice, “I’m—” he cleared his throat a little, “I’m Superboy,” he said.

Slowly, he reached out to Superman. His fingertips brushed against Superman’s knuckles, like he wanted to take his hand, like he had with Flash just earlier. The light touch finally spurred Superman to react and he wrenched his hand away, taking about two steps backwards, away from the tiny child in front of him.

The boy, Superboy, looked shocked for a moment before his face crumpled into despair. Superman felt a twinge of guilt, but it was overwrought by the rest of the confusing mix of emotions that was swirling in his head.

Superman felt the weight of half a dozen pairs of eyes on him and looked up. Several members of the League were watching him with a mixture of annoyance, sympathy, and disdain. The most burning of them all was Batman, who had turned the full Bat Glare™ on him (he’d seen it before, but he’d never had it directed at him. He could see why it frightened people so much).

Flash came up behind Superboy and rested his hands on his shoulders, glaring at Superman a little, “Maybe we should get him out of here and take a closer look at him. Make sure he’s okay.”

“I agree,” Batman said, and Superman could feel the venom dripping from every word, “Let’s get him somewhere safe.”

In all his life, Superman had never felt so small.

* * *

They took Superboy to a S.T.A.R. Labs facility nearby. They ran a few tests and confirmed; Superboy was genetically linked to Superman, a clone. Not a complete clone, since about half of his DNA was human (from an unknown source), but ‘clone’ sat a little better in Superman’s stomach than ‘son’, which was technically a closer descriptor. Further tests and examinations showed that Superboy had undergone an accelerated growing process, and was technically only about ten weeks old. Martian Manhunter had agreed to look into the boy’s mind, just in case there was anything they should worry about, but had found nothing.

“What do you mean ‘nothing’?” Flash asked, trying to coax a sullen and silent Superboy to having something to eat (cheese and apple slices and a little carton of milk, the healthiest thing he could come up with in a lab full of scientists who ran exclusively on coffee and instant noodles).

“I mean exactly that,” Martian Manhunter said, “There is some implanted information, a basic education that relates to what a normal child his physical age would know from the school system, but beyond that, there is nothing. He has no memories.”

“None at all?” Green Lantern asked, “How’s that possible?”

“I believe it is because this is technically Superboy’s first day,” Martian Manhunter explained, “He has never been outside of his pod, and therefore, this is the first time he has been conscious. He is, essentially, a newborn child.”

“Poor thing,” Wonder Woman cooed, reaching out to stroke the little boy’s hair. He tensed for a moment before leaning heavily into the touch.

“That would explain his odd movements,” Batman said, “He’s unused to having control over his own body.”

“And there was nothing else you could find?” Superman asked, “Nothing . . . implanted?”

Martian’s didn’t have eyebrows, and therefore they couldn't raise them, but Superman could sense the intent in Manhunter’s expression, “I gave Superboy a thorough examination as I was comfortable with. There is nothing in his mind that could be considered immediately dangerous. Given time and care, he should become a normal child.”

“Even if something was implanted, there’s the likely chance that it wouldn't stick. Brains that young are extremely malleable, and something like a trigger would have to be rigorously enforced every day for years to stick. If something is hidden in his mind, it should fade in a few months,” Batman explained.

“Right,” Superman said, not entirely convinced, but getting the distinct impression that if he tried to argue anything further, he’d only make things worse for himself.

“The question now, is what to do with him,” Batman said, “He needs someone to take care of him. Someone who’s familiar with Kryptonian biology.”

Superman tensed all over again. He’d been expecting this, but that didn’t mean he liked the idea, “He can’t come home with me. I live in an apartment, we don't know if he’s dangerous.”

“He’s not, as far as we know,” Flash said, “He hasn’t displayed any kind of powers so far, and like Manhunter said, he’s basically a newborn.”

“We don't know if he has powers or not. They might spontaneously appear,” Superman argued.

“When did your powers first appear?” Batman asked. His voice was smooth and even, but Superman could hear the smallest amount of anger under it.

“Um, I was fifteen when my strength came in, and I learned how to fly shortly after. I nineteen by the time all my powers were fully developed. I’ve always been invulnerable,” Superman answered, knowing he wouldn’t be able to get away with lying (Lois always told him he had a terrible poker face), “But we don't know if he’s the same—”

“Until we run more tests, or have some other evidence to suggest otherwise, we have to assume his development is analogue with yours,” Batman said, “And if they do spontaneously manifest, the safest place, for him and others, is with you.”

Superman pressed his lips together, wishing that for once Batman didn't make such a damn good point. He glanced down at Superboy again, who was still considering the food in front of him thoughtfully. He peeked up at Superman out of the corner of his eyes, but quickly glanced away when he saw that he was being watched.

“Clark,” Batman said, coming up to his side and pushing him off to a more private location, “Let’s talk.”

Obediently, Superman let Batman take him down the hall to an unused lab, where they could be Clark and Bruce for a minute.

“You’re freaking out,” Bruce said, pushing back the cowl.

Clark ran a hand through his hair, messing up the slicked back style, “Of course I'm freaking out, wouldn't you be freaking out if you found out you had a ten year old clone?”

“Yes, I would be,” Bruce said, narrowing his eyes, “But that’s no reason to be taking it out on him.”

Clark flinched, “We don't know what he’s capable of, we barely even know what he  _ is _ .”

Bruce frowned, “I agree, but that’s  _ still _ no reason to take it out on him. From what we can gather so far, he’s a child, and children to be nurtured, not rejected. The closest thing he has to a father right now is you, and you’ve already made him feel unwanted.”

Clark turned away, “I'm not his father,” he said firmly, starting to pace around to get the nervous energy out.”

Bruce sighed, “I know he troubles you, but he’s here. You have to get over the how and why. He needs you Clark.”

Clark grit his teeth together, hating that Bruce made sense, trying not to be resentful of the child in the other room. He knew, logically, that Superboy wasn't at fault for his existence. The boy hadn't asked to be made, he hadn't had a choice in the manner he was created at all. His gut, however, twisted painfully every time he tried to think about it.

“It just feels so . . .  _ violating _ ,” Clark said, “My DNA was taken without my consent and I was  _ cloned _ . Do you have any idea what that feels like?”

“I don't,” Bruce said, sounding as sympathetic as he could possibly be, being who he was, “But this isn't about you, it’s about a very scared and confused child who needs a guiding hand to steer him in the right direction. You’re right to be worried about him being dangerous Clark, but the same could be said about you. You want to make sure he doesn't hurt anyone? Show him how.”

Clark sucked in a deep breath and let it out, “You're right, I know you're right,” he said, “But why me? Isn't there anyone else who can deal with this?”

Bruce furrowed his brow, thinking for a moment, “One of the other Leaguers might be able to take him for a short while, but I don't think that’s a good idea. This is a critical moment for Superboy. He needs to form a healthy parental bond if he's ever going to be a healthy adult. Bouncing him around from one place to another won't accomplish that.”

Clark grumbled, “When did you become an expert on child psychology?” he asked.

“I read a lot of parenting books when I first adopted Dick,” Bruce said, the hint of a smile on his face. It faded and he became serious again, “We're not asking you to do this alone, Clark. I understand that this is very upsetting for you. But the only person that could handle him if he does turn out to be a problem is you.”

Clark let out another long sigh, “I know,” he said, “This is really messed up.”

Bruce let out a hum of agreement, “You can give me a call if you need help. I have a bit of experience with parenting children from . . .  _ unconventional _ backgrounds.”

Clark managed a small smile, “Thanks Bruce, that means a lot.”

Bruce gave him a nod and pulled his cowl back on, “I know this is difficult, but for his sake, try.”

Clark nodded and took a deep breath, trying to step back into ‘Superman’ for a while. Bruce always did it so easily, going back and forth between ‘Bruce’ and ‘Batman’, enough to make Clark a little jealous. The divide in Superman wasn't as pronounced as it was within Batman, but somehow it always felt a little strange to shed Clark and become this symbol. He’d never give it up, he had a responsibility to help people with his power, but every so often he’d catch himself wondering what his life might be like if he were just human.

Superman pushed aside those thoughts for now. Batman was right; for better or worse, Superboy took priority right now. The two of them came back to the lab where the others were. Most of the other Leaguers had either gone home or were helping settle thing back at Cadmus. The only ones left at S.T.A.R. Labs were himself, Batman, Martian Manhunter, Green Lantern, Flash, and Wonder Woman (Wonder Woman’s love of children was quite adorable). Currently, Wonder Woman had Superboy sitting on her lap, finally eating the apple slices and smiling a little. Flash looked relieved and Green Lantern looked a little jealous.

Superboy looked up as they came in, eyes that were a carbon copy of Clark’s staring back at him. Superman felt the twisting in his gut again, the urge to run away from this whole situation and forget that it was even happening.

As if sensing his thoughts, Superboy looked dejected and curled back into Wonder Woman, resting his head on her shoulder. Diana reached up and stroked his black hair, humming softly to try and soothe him. Superman set his jaw and pushed down those feelings, ignoring the looks that Flash and Green Lantern were giving him. He felt very lucky that Wonder Woman was more interested in keeping Superboy calm than glaring at him.

Kneeling down in front of Superboy, Superman tried to smile a little, “Hey,” he said softly, “I’m sorry about earlier. I was . . . very surprised,” he managed.

Superboy looked up at him, looking a little surprised by Superman’s turnaround. His eyes were still unnervingly similar to his own; it was like looking at an old photograph or home movie that had come to life an it’s own.

Superman made sure his smile didn’t waver and cleared his throat, “So, Superboy . . . did you like the apples?”

Superboy sat up a little more, managing to smile back at Superman and giving a small nod. He leaned forward a little, obviously wanting to get closer to the man he was cloned from. Slowly, he reached out his hand again, like he had back at Cadmus. It took a lot for Superman not to flinch back again, to keep himself steady as Superboy’s fingers brushed against his cheek. He couldn't hide his surprise, however, when he realized how warm Superboy’s hands were.

Kryptonians ran warmer than humans, and as such, Superman had rarely met another person whose hands were cold to him. Even Lois’s touch could be a little frigid. He didn't mind it so much, he’d just become used to it, and he’d never been bothered by the cold. It was a very strange feeling for him to have such a warm touch, when he was so used to the cold.

“I think it’s time I got going,” Flash said, stifling a yawn, “I’m taking Kid Flash out for a training thing in the morning and that kid wakes up so early.”

“We should all get some rest,” Martian Manhunter said, “It has been a long day, and there is still much to be done about Cadmus and Superboy.”

“Should he come back for more tests?” Superman asked, standing again, pulling away from the touch, but not as violently as before.

“There isn’t much else to test. S.T.A.R. Labs has blood samples, they’ll keep working on them and let us know,” Batman said, “I think it’s best of you took Superboy home for now.”

The twisting was back; it hadn’t occurred to him until just now that he would be taking Superboy back to his home with him. He opened his mouth to protest, but was silenced with a sharp look from Batman.

“I’ll have some things sent to you. They should arrive tomorrow morning,” Batman said, “You should be able to handle things on your own for one night.”

Superman looked back down at Superboy, who was looking up at him with that sort of trusting reverence most children had for adults they admired. The twisting in his gut hadn't gone away, but there was little he could do about it.

“We’ll be okay, right Superboy?” he said, trying to smile again.

Superboy looked shocked, “I’m going with you?” he asked.

“Where did you think you were going?” Superman asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Back to Cadmus. It’s my home,” Superboy said with a strange confidence. Martian Manhunter narrowed his eyes and Green Lantern ran his hand through his hair again. Wonder Woman muttered something under her breath and gave Superboy a little squeeze.

Superman felt a curl of something he couldn’t identify in his stomach. It felt a little like anger and guilt, but he didn't want to examine that too closely right now, “Well, you’re not going back to Cadmus,” he said.

“Not ever?” Superboy asked, perplexed.

“No,” Superman said, “You’re coming with me.”

Superboy brightened instantly, “Okay,” he said, wiggling off of Wonder Woman’s lap. She smiled down at him and ruffled his hair before standing and stretching.

“I should be leaving as well,” Wonder Woman said. She rested her hand on Superman’s shoulder, “Call if you need to. And . . . take care of him.” It was always a little uncanny how Diana could guess what was bothering people. Though, it wasn’t like he’d been very subtle about his discomfort.

“I will,” Superman promised. If nothing else, he knew he could count on his friends to help if he needed.

Soon, only he and Batman were left as they others filed out to get to their respective homes. Batman gave him one last look and finally left him alone with Superboy. Superman couldn’t help but tense a little as he realized this; he was alone for the first time with the possibly evil clone of himself. Superboy looked up at him, eyes clear and bright, trusting. Superman was familiar with small children immediately trusting him, but this was different; Superboy was looking at him like he was the answer to everything and anything, if he only looked hard enough.

“Well . . we should get going,” Superman said, walking towards the exit. He kept an eye on Superboy, making sure he was following. The boy tried hard to keep up, but his legs weren’t that long and he seemed to still be getting used walking as a concept.

They slowly made their way out of the building and into the fading light of day. May in DC could still be a little cool in the evenings, but it was mild today. Superman looked down at Superboy, still following along behind him, and sighed, knowing that he had to do this. Quickly, before he could weird himself out about it, he bent down and scooped Superboy into his arms, securing him in his grip so he wouldn't fall why they were flying.

He was expecting the boy to be warm, but he was also surprisingly heavy, “Hold on, alright? I have to fly us back to Metropolis.”

Superboy nodded and wrapped his arms around Superman’s neck, cuddling into his shoulder and holding tightly to his cape. Superman closed his eyes for a moment to quell the swirl of conflicting emotion in his stomach, then took off into the sky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Batsy might seem a little different here than he does in other places where I wrote him, but the thinking here is that this is him pre-Jason and stuff. He's only had Dick so far, and while he's still not a perfect Dad, he's pretty decent.
> 
> Also Superman's feelings on being cloned are really complicated, but I still think he acted badly to Superboy in YJ (and in the comics honestly). That's the bulk of this chapter anyway, so we'll see where it takes us in the next chapters.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I mainlined the first two seasons of The Most Popular Girls in School while I was writing this, so it didn't get finished as quickly as I thought it would. I also really struggled with a lot of this. Hopefully the next few chapters go smoother. I don't think this is going to be a long fic, but it might get a sequel.

The flight back to Metropolis was uneventful and quiet. Superboy clung to Superman tightly the entire time, face buried into his neck, while Superman tried not to freak out any more than he already had. It was a thankfully short flight from DC to Metropolis, even though he was flying relatively slow so he wouldn’t drop the boy.

He touched down at his apartment’s balcony and quickly brought them inside, shutting the blinds and setting Superboy down in his living room. They stared at each other, the silence stretching out awkwardly as the seconds ticked by.

“I’ll . . . I’m going to be right back, okay?” Clark said. He retreated to his bedroom, ostensibly to change out of his suit, but also to have a moment to himself.

Clark changed quickly, glad to shed ‘Superman’ for now, but he didn't leave his bedroom just yet. Instead, he leaned back against the wall and slid down it, putting his face in his hands. He had a ten-year-old/newborn, half-human clone of himself standing in his living room, and he was expected to take care of it from now until whenever. This was all kinds of messed up and Clark didn't think he could handle it, but he couldn’t call the others just yet, not so soon after he left. He should have asked one of them to come with him. Diana would have gladly come along with him to look after the boy, and Batman might have at least offered to call him later.

Taking a few deep breaths, Clark tried to calm his tumultuous thoughts. He wished he could hide in his room for the rest of the night, ignore the problem in the living room, but he knew that that was probably the worst thing he could do. Slowly, Clark pushed himself up off the wall and carefully put away his suit, wishing there was more to stall himself with.

Eventually, he had to admit defeat and left his bedroom. Superboy was still standing in the living room in the exact place Clark had left him, staring at the door that Clark had disappeared behind. It was a little bit too  _ Children of the Corn _ for Clark’s tastes and he couldn't help a little shiver that ran up his spine.

“Um, do you need anything?” he asked, wondering what he should do.

Superboy shook his head, still looking up at Clark. It was almost like he was waiting to be told what to do.

Clark cleared his throat, “You can look around if you want,” he said.

With a nod and a serious expression, Superboy looked around, remaining in the same spot and craning his head around to look, turning in place when he wanted to see what was behind him. He turned back to Clark, “I looked,” he said.

“No, that's—” Clark couldn't help it, he burst out laughing at the absurdity of this child and the situation, “I mean walk around and explore a little. If you want. Just try to be quiet. The neighbors are probably sleeping.”

With another serious nod, Superboy took off around the apartment, methodically inspecting every part of it, every nook and cranny, while trying to be completely silent. Clark sat on the couch, watching him, trying to make sense of it all. He'd never seen a child act this way in complete seriousness, but he supposed that he'd never seen a child like Superboy. The boy had had knowledge downloaded directing into his head via telepathy, everything a boy his age would need to know, but nothing much else. No memories, no preferences, no personality of any kind. He was a clean slate, a blank canvas.

An empty shell.

The idea of that didn't settle right with Clark. His parents had never been by religious, only going to church functions if they wanted to socialize, but they’d believed a little. How else could they explain a little baby boy dropped into their arms just when they were about to give up on having children of their own, and then that baby growing up to use his godlike powers to save humanity? It must be fate, or destiny, or someone pulling the strings. One of the things they had believed in was the concept of a soul, the thing inside someone that made them ‘them’. As he watched Superboy meticulously inspect the potted plant Clark had been given as a housewarming present, he wondered if the little thing had a soul. He walked and talked like a normal child (kind of), but there was nothing inside of him, no ‘him’. He might have been a doll.

Clark immediately felt guilty for those thoughts, suddenly remembering Red Tornado, and other androids and robots he’d encountered. They were artificial beings just as Superboy was, even more so, not even being made of flesh, and he never treated them any different. They had proven over and over again that they had souls, sentience, morality, personality. Maybe, Clark considered, Superboy just hadn't grown into his yet. After all, what were babies but little doll-like blank slates, ready to be shaped by the world?

Bruce’s words floated back to him, about how he needed to guide Superboy to help him grow into a good person, the way his parents had for him. Clark didn't like to think too hard about what might have happened if he’d ended up with parents who weren't as good hearted as the Kents, what he might have used his powers for. Superboy was a little baby, new to the world as fresh fallen snow, and he needed help navigating the world that would so easily corrupt him.

Clark’s internal musings helped to calm him down as he watched Superboy. He tried to remember that it wasn't Superboy’s fault that he was the way he was, that he existed the way he did. He was the result of bad people trying to do bad things, but that could be said for a lot of people who had grown to become good people in spite of the circumstances of their creation. It didn't quiet things inside Clark completely, but he thought he might be able to get some sleep tonight at least.

Superboy finished his inspection of the whole apartment (living room, bedroom, bathroom, and kitchen/dining room), and returned to the spot Clark had first put him in. Clark wondered what the hell he was supposed to do about this, but he noticed the time on the clock, “I think it’s time for bed now,” he said, standing up and stretching.

“I’m not tired,” Superboy said, almost pouted, and it was so close to a what a normal child might do that Clark nearly laughed again.

“Well, it’s time to sleep anyway,” Clark said, walking towards his bedroom, “Come on, let’s get you something to wear.”

All of Clark’s clothes were much too large for a ten year old, even for sleeping, but he had a never-worn shirt that was around three sizes too small and would do for a kind of sleeping gown thing. It had been bought for him as a gag gift by the ladies at the Daily Planet, who’d teased him about giving them a ‘show’ by putting it on. He’d laughed at their good natured teasing and took the shirt, but simply put it in his drawer and never thought about it again until now. He pulled it out and unfolded it; it was probably alright in size, Superboy wasn’t that small. Looking at him again, he might have been just slightly taller than the average ten year old. He was miniscule in comparison to Superman, but Clark had huge shoulders and stood at about 6”4, so most things seemed smaller next to him.

He handed the shirt to Superboy, who had obediently followed him into his room, “Change into this. It’ll be a little big, but it’s for sleeping,” he said, pointing to the bathroom, “You can change in there.”

Superboy took the shirt and walked to the bathroom. Clark sat down on the bed and waited. And kept waiting. Nearly fifteen minutes went by with not so much as a sound from the bathroom, and Clark’s gut began to twist again.

Getting up and pressing an ear to the door, he gave a knock (he didn’t like to X-Ray vision into bathrooms unless he had to), “Superboy? Are you okay in there?” he called.

Clark could hear shuffling on the other side of the door. It went on for another few minutes before Clark decided that he needed to intervene, “I’m going to come in, okay?” he called.

Slowly, Clark turned the knob and opened the door; Superboy was struggling with his bodysuit, tugging at it ineffectually. He couldn't get it off, and it looked like he was starting to get frustrated.

“You need help?” Clark asked, coming into the bathroom further.

Superboy tugged at the suit for another minute before stopping and hanging his head. He looked like he was about to cry.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Clark asked, kneeling down. He reached out and put a hand on Superboy’s arm, an instinctual move after years of dealing with upset children. He’d forgotten how warm Superboy was and took his hand away after a second, unable to get over the weirdness of it.

Superboy didn’t say anything for a moment, “I failed,” he mumbled.

“Failed?” Clark asked, “Why would you say that?”

“Couldn’t get the suit off,” Superboy said, and now the tears were starting to fall, “Failed your order.”

“Order?” Clark asked, “I never gave you an order.”

“You did,” Superboy said, raising his arm to swipe at his eyes, “An’ I couldn't do it.”

Clark thought back and examined his words. He supposed his words could have been taken as an order to someone who didn’t know any better. Clark let out a sigh, “That wasn't an order, Superboy.”

Superboy looked up, “It wasn’t?” he asked.

“No,” Clark said, wondering how he was going to deal with this, “Let me just help you change for now and we can talk more about it in the morning.”

He actually had no idea what to do about it, but hopefully he could call Bruce soon and get his advice. He was really out of his depth here. He turned Superboy around and tried to figure out how to get the suit off. He couldn't find any zippers or clasps, and the material wasn't stretchy at all. There was no obvious way to remove it at all.

Clark scratched his head, “How the heck did they get you into this thing?” he said, more to himself than to Superboy.

“I don't know, I wasn't awake then,” Superboy answered, “This is my first day I've been awake.”

“ . . . Right,” Clark said, “Guess it’s been a hell of a first day.”

Superboy shrugged, “I suppose,” he said.

“Anyway,” Clark continued, “I think we’re going to have to cut you out of this.” He reached for the collar of the suit and gripped it tightly, “I’m going to rip it open, okay?”

Superboy nodded and stood still as Clark gave a yank and tore the suit. It was stronger than he was expecting, but still shredded under his strength. He tore it right down the front until he reached Superboy’s belly button (why he would have a belly button if he was a clone was beyond him).

“There, now you can probably get out of it,” he said, standing up, “I’ll go and set up the couch for you to sleep on while you change, okay?”

“Yes,” Superboy answered, already eagerly removing the suit. He wasn't wearing anything under it, and Clark could see the imprint of the material left behind on Superboy’s skin. Had it ever been removed?

Clark left the bathroom and went hunting through his closet for the extra sheets. He laid them out on the couch and found the throw blanket his Ma had made for him when he moved, as well as an extra pillow. It wasn't the best setup, but it would do for now.

“I’m going to have to move,” he muttered to himself. If Superboy was going to stay with him, he was going to have to move to an apartment that had two bedrooms. Could he even afford a two bedroom place in Metropolis close enough to work? Clark’s head started to pound as his mind started to supply a laundry list of things that Clark would have to change to accommodate a ten year old.

The bathroom door opened and Clark pushed aside those thoughts for now. Superboy was wearing the shirt, which was huge on him, but not as huge as one of Clark’s regular shirts would have been. He looked surprisingly normal without the suit on, like a normal child dressed for bed. Clark wasn’t sure if it put him more or less at ease.

“Alright, this will have to do for now,” Clark said, “You need anything before bed? Glass of water?”

Superboy shook his head and got up on the couch, “I thought couches were for sitting on?”

“They are,” Clark said, “But sometimes they’re for sleeping on too.” He took the blanket and spread it over Superboy, “You’ll be okay here for the night?”

Superboy nodded and inspected the blanket, “It’s got holes,” he said.

“It’s crochet,” Clark explained, watching the curious little boy, “You really don't know much, do you?”

Superboy looked up at him, “I don't know.”

Clark stared down at Superboy, not sure what he was feeling, “Let’s just get you into bed, okay?” he said.

Once Superboy was settled and starting to doze off, Clark retreated to his bedroom, closing the door behind him. He let out a huge breath and went for his phone. It was well after midnight, but he knew someone who’d still be awake at this hour.

The line rang a few times before a crisp British voice answered, “Wayne Manor, who may I ask is calling?”

“Hello Alfred,” Clark greeted, “It’s Clark.”

“One moment sir, I’ll fetch Master Bruce,” Alfred said. The line went quiet for a minute before a deep, growly bass answered, “Clark?”

“Bruce,” Clark said, “I need help.”

“It’s been four hours, at best,” Bruce said, “You can’t be having that much trouble.”

Clark let out a hysterical laugh, “I have no idea what the hell I’m doing. He thinks anything I tell him to do it an order, and gets upset when he can’t follow through with them. I’d like to tell him not to think that, but I don't want to tell him not to listen to me when I tell him something. I just realized that I’m going to have to get a new apartment, which I don't know if I’ll be able to afford. He’s going to need clothes, toys, I’m going to have to sign him up for school, Christ I’m going to need to set up a college fund. I can’t do this.”

“Clark, calm down,” Bruce said, “Take a few deep breaths and sit down. I’m going to need you to listen to me.”

Clark did as he was told and waited. Bruce took a deep breath and started speaking in a calm, even tone, “First things first, you’re going to have to take a little time off of work. A week at least. You need to spend some time building trust with Superboy, forming a bond. Where is he now?”

“Sleeping on the couch,” Clark said, “I’m in the bedroom.”

“Is the door open?” Bruce asked.

“No,” Clark answered.

“Open it. If he wakes up in the middle of the night, a closed door will make him feel cut out. You need to make him feel welcomed. He needs to know that he can come to you. Understand?”

Clark glanced at the closed door of his bedroom, “Alright, I’ll open it later.”

“Good. Now, as for the taking orders, try to word things in a way that makes it clear that it’s up to him to make the decision. Don't say, “Go here,” but rather ask, “Would you like to go here?” This is going to take a long time and a lot of dedication, so be prepared for that. He’s not going to get it at first, so you’ll need to be patient with him. The school year is almost over, so don’t work about enrolling him just yet. I’ve already had some supplies sent over and they should arrive in the morning, so that takes care of clothes and toys for now. As for the apartment, do you have a good relationship with your landlord?”

“Yes, Mrs. Atchison is a very nice lady,” Clark said.

“Good, talk to her first, see if she has any apartments available in the same building that are open. Explain to her the situation as best you can, and hopefully she’ll be sympathetic. If she likes you, you might get the apartment at a reduced rent.”

“Right,” Clark said, and the nauseous feeling in his stomach was starting to settle, “Thanks Bruce.”

“This is going to be difficult Clark,” Bruce said, “You’re going to make mistakes. Everyone does. But you don’t have to do it alone.”

Clark smiled a little, “Thanks,” he said.

“Don’t forget to open the door,” Bruce said, then hung up.

Clark rolled his eyes and put his phone away. Bruce was a good friend, but had the tact of a goldfish. Letting out a deep sigh, Clark got up to open the bedroom door a little. He poked his head out to check on Superboy, watching him sleep soundly on the couch. Clark watched him a for a few minutes, wondering how this had become his life in only a few short hours. Leaving the door ajar, he turned and got ready for bed. He needed to sleep for years to be ready to deal with this in the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Clark has No Clue and Bruce is a good friend. Also, I know Superboy in both the comics and the cartoon was all "I don't follow orders," but he was also a teenager and teens are notorious for being rebellious. This superbly is ten, so I'm taking a little creative liberty here.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took more work than I thought it would, and I don't know if I'm entirely happy with it, but I couldn't get it to cooperate that well otherwise. This is the first time I've ever written Perry White, and I kind of like the MoS version of him played by Laurence Fishburne. Then again, I love Laurence Fishburne a lot. Who doesn't?

Clark woke up about ten minutes before his alarm went off, just like he did every morning. He glared at the little red numbers for a few minutes before groaning and getting up. There was a lot he needed to do today, and he wasn’t going to get it done lying in bed, no matter how much he wished he could.

Superboy was already awake, sitting up on the couch, staring off into nothing. He looked up at Clark when he walked in, blue eyes fully awake and alert, “How long have you been up?” Clark asked.

“Two hours,” Superboy answered.

“And you’ve just been sitting there this whole time?” Clark asked.

Superboy looked concerned, “Was I . . . supposed to do something?”

Clark sucked in a breath, remembering that Superboy didn’t have the foggiest idea of what was ‘normal’. He wondered for a minute if it might have been easier on the kid if he had been left in his pod for longer, until he’d grown a little more. Maybe he could have been a little more autonomous, more able to take care of himself.

“No, you’re fine,” Clark answered, making his way to the kitchen, “Breakfast?”

Superboy got off the couch and followed Clark, “More food?” He sounded eager.

Clark glanced down at him, “Yeah, you hungry?” he asked.

“That’s when your stomach is empty right?” Superboy asked, “I guess so. Food tastes good.”

Clark chuckled a little, “That it does.”

He didn't ask Superboy what he wanted, knowing that Superboy wouldn't even know what foods were  _ for _ breakfast. Clark decided on scrambled eggs and apple slices, with coffee for him and a glass of milk for Superboy. A healthy breakfast, and the apples would be familiar to Superboy at least.

The coffee was just finishing when there was a knock at the door. Clark did a quick scan with his X-Ray vision to see that it was just the delivery people that Bruce had sent. He set Superboy’s plate in front of him and went to the door.

“Delivery for Mr. Kent?” the delivery man said, hardly glancing up from his clipboard.

“That’s me,” Clark said, smiling politely, “Thank you for delivering it so quickly.

“Thanks for the big tip,” the man answered, handing over and electronic device, “Sign here.”

Clark signed and handed the device back. The delivery man tipped his hat and walked off with an apathetic ‘have a nice day’, leaving Clark with a hallway full of boxes. It only took him a minute to get them all inside.

“What’s that?” Superboy asked, turning in his seat to watch.

“Some things Batman sent for you,” Clark explained, “Clothes and things.”

“What sort of things?” Superboy asked.

Clark looked up at the curious child, “Eat your—” he stopped, “Why don’t you finish your breakfast first?” he suggested, “Then later we can look through all of this. If you want.”

Superboy didn't look satisfied with that, but he turned and started eating his eggs. Clark started sorting through the boxes of things. Most of it seemed to be clothes, but there were also several boxes of toys appropriate for a ten year old, as well as a couple boxes of books. Most of the books were, again, age appropriate for a ten year old, but a few were thick parenting guides obviously intended for him. Clark wondered if Bruce had simply sent him a list of the best titles, or if he’d sent copies of the books he’d read when he’d adopted Dick.

Superboy finished with his breakfast and hopped down, coming over to Clark, “What’s in the boxes?” he asked.

“Why don’t you have a look?” Clark said.

Superboy peered into one of the boxes full of clothes. He pulled out a shirt and lifted it, “This is all mine?” he asked.

“All of it,” Clark said, “All the clothes and the toys.”

“Toys?” Superboy asked, looking confused.

“Yeah, you know, toys. Things you play with,” Clark said.

“I know what toys are,” Superboy snapped, then looked horrified at what he’d done, “I mean, I just didn’t think . . . I didn't think I would have toys.”

Clark decided to ignore Superboy’s outburst of attitude, “Why didn't you think that?”

“I’m not a real boy, I’m a weapon,” Superboy recited, “I don’t play.”

Clark’s stomach twisted, thinking of all the things Cadmus must have stuffed into his head, “You’re not a weapon, Superboy,” he said carefully, “You have toys, and you can play with them.”

Superboy seemed blown away by that news, like it had never occurred to him before. Clark pushed a box of toys his way, “Here, these are all yours.”

Superboy hesitated a moment before he started picking through the box. There was quite the varied selection of toys, ranging from little plastic robots and dinosaurs and toy soldiers, some video games (with the consols), a large bucket of lego (multicoloured), and toy cars. Superboy picked through them for a minute before he found a few plush toys. He ran hand over the soft fabrics and pulled one out. A realistic looking wolf plushie, with very soft, very white fur. It looked very expensive, and Clark could guess that it was one of those plushies that you bought and a certain amount of money got donated to conservation efforts. Superboy was completely enamoured by it, running his hands through the soft fur.

“You like that one?” Clark asked. Superboy nodded vigorously, hugging the plush to his body. He looked even younger holding it, or more innocent, child-like, Clark wasn’t sure what to call it, “Alright then.”

Clark noticed the time on the clock and winced. Perry would be getting into his office just now, always early so he could start yelling at everyone who came as they were coming in. With a sigh, Clark got up from the floor and pulled out his phone, dreading the phone call he was about to make.

“Clark,” Perry growled on the other end, “You better be calling to tell me you’re going to be in early  _ and _ you have the Sanders piece finished.”

“Not exactly,” Clark said with a grimace, “I need to take some time off.”

“Time off!?” Perry shouted, “The hell you will!”

Clark groaned and rubbed the bridge of his nose, “Look, I know it’s short notice, but something’s come up.” He glanced at Superboy, “It’s a . . . family emergency.”

“Family emergency? Your folks okay, Smallville?” Perry asked, sounding a little calmer, almost concerned.

“They’re fine,” Clark answered.

“Then why the  _ hell _ do you need the time off?” Perry growled, getting agitated again.

“It’s . . .  _ complicated _ .” Understatement of the year, “Look, you know me Perry. I never take sick days and I always do the paperwork for vacation time properly. I wouldn’t do this unless it was absolutely necessary.”

“Are we counting all the times where you mysteriously disappear or show up late? Because I have a few things to say about that,” Perry grumbled, “But fine. How long do you need?”

“A week at the absolute least,” Clark said, “If I could have two, that would be best.”

“ _ Two weeks! _ ” Perry screeched, “What on God’s green Earth is such an emergency that you need to take two weeks off of work?”

Clark groaned, “Perry, I really wish I could tell you about it, but I’m kind of in the middle of processing what the hell happened myself.”

“Try me, Smallville,” Perry growled.

“It’s—” Clark tried to think of something close enough to the truth, “There’s a . . . kid,” he said, “It’s all very sudden and I really need some time off to figure out what the hell I’m doing.”

There was a pause over the line, “A kid?” Perry asked, “What the hell does that mean?”

“It means what it means, Perry,” Clark snapped, “Sorry, that came out a little rude.”

“You’re dang right it did,” Perry grumbled.

“Sorry,” Clark said again, “But I really need this time off to figure some stuff out.”

Clark could hear Perry grumble and mutter expletives over the phone, “Fine, two weeks, but work from your laptop if you can,” Perry said, “I still need that Sanders piece by the end of tomorrow.  _ And _ you’re on fluff duty for two weeks when you get back.”

“That’s fine,” Clark said, trying not to groan. Fluff duty was the worst, and usually pushed onto the underpaid interns and newbies. Writing piece after piece about kittens rescued from trees and little old ladies who fed the ducks at the park got really old really quick.

“I’ll see you in two weeks,” Perry said, sounding satisfied, “Good luck with the emergency.”

“Thank you Perry,” Clark said. They said their goodbyes and hung up. Perry was going to be a nightmare when he went back, but he’d at least given Clark an idea about what to do with Superboy.

Clark turned back to Superboy, “You know where Kansas is?” he asked.

* * *

 

Despite the turmoil that had been his life since the night before, Clark couldn't help but feel a sense of calm as he touched down near the farm. It always felt like coming home, however clichéd that was. He set Superboy down and hoisted the duffle bag a little higher on his shoulder. Superboy looked even more normal now, in real clothes, toting around the wolf plushie. Clark wasn't sure if he preferred it this way, or if he wanted Superboy to go to how he was before, this little alien thing that couldn't possibly an innocent, normal child.

As they approached the house, Clark could see his parents coming over the hill. They always knew when he came, recognizing the way the ground shook when he landed. He had a moment to panic about what they would think of Superboy before they came into better view.

“Clark!” Martha called, smiling brightly, “What brings you . . . home?” She stopped just short of them, staring down at Superboy with wide eyes.

“Well now, there’s a sight,” Jonathan said, taking off his hat and scratching his head, “Something you want to tell us son?”

Clark cleared his throat, “Ma, Pa, this is . . . Superboy,” he said, rubbing the back of neck, “He’s . . . my clone.”

Martha and Jonathan glanced at each other, “Son, you sure know how to keep surprising us,” Jonathan said. He turned and smiled down at Superboy, “So what’s yer name, kiddo?”

“I’m Superboy,” he answered, squeezing the wolf plushie a little tighter. Was he nervous? Clark couldn’t tell from his face or body.

Jonathan laughed, crouching down so he was on Superboy’s level, “No kiddo, I mean your real name. I’m Jonathan.” He held out his hand to shake.

Superboy frowned down at the offered hand, “I don’t have any other name,” he said.

“Oh well,  _ that _ won’t do at all,” Martha said, coming forward and putting her hand on Superboy’s head to ruffle his hair, “Come on inside sweetie, and let’s get you something to eat.”

Superboy followed along obediently, “I like food,” he said.

Martha laughed, “Well, you’ll fit in just fine around here, sweetheart,” she said, leading Superboy back to the house.

Jonathan turned back to Clark, “Mind giving us the more detailed version inside?” he asked.

“I’ll do what I can,” Clark said, walking with his father and already feeling better.

Clark tried his best to explain the situation in the kitchen, sitting across from Jonathan, Superboy at the other end of the table, while Martha bustled about making lunch.

“So that’s basically the situation,” Clark finished, “I’m really out of my depth here.”

“I can imagine,” Jonathan said, watching the boy, “He’s a dead ringer for you at that age though. Dang  _ uncanny _ .”

“Tell me about it,” Clark said with a sigh, “I was hoping you might have some advice for . . . surprise children dropped in your lap.”

Jonathan chuckled, “Well, we certainly know a thing or two about that,” he said, “But you were a baby when we found you. Superboy is, what, you said ten? A bit of a difference there son.”

“Well, technically he’s only ten weeks old, so yeah,” Clark said.

“Will the two of you stop talking about him as though he can’t hear you?” Martha chastised them, “He’s sitting right next to you for goodness sake.”

“I can hear you,” Superboy informed them.

“Sorry Ma,” Clark said, a little embarrassed.

“Not me you need to be saying sorry to,” Martha said, turning back to her cutting board.

Clark sighed, “Sorry Superboy,” he said, looking down at the boy. Superboy looked up at him, and Clark had to avert his eyes from that gaze, those eyes that were so much like his own. He didn’t think he’d ever get used to it.

“So, what are we going to name him?” Martha asked, “We can’t just keep calling him ‘Superboy’.”

“Ah, I hadn’t really given it any thought,” Clark said, “So much has happened so fast.”

“Well, you’ve got some time to figure it out now,” Jonathan said, “An’ first thing we oughta do is get this little guy a proper name.”

Superboy frowned, “No,” he said resolutely.

Martha stopped and turned, “No? Why no?”

“I’m  _ Superboy _ ,” he insisted, “You—you can’t take that!”

“Now calm down kiddo, no one is taking nothin’ from ya,” Jonathan said, “We want to  _ give _ you something, not take.”

Superboy still looked suspicious, until Martha reached over and stroked his hair, “Sweetheart, I don’t think anyone could ‘take’ Superboy from you,” she said.

“Yeah, especially since Clark here doesn’t seem to be forthcoming with the grandkids anytime soon,” Jonathan said, swirling his coffee around in his mug.

“Pa!” Clark exclaimed, “Can we not do this right now?”

“Fine fine,” Jonathan said, then got an evil little glint in his eye, “So how’s Ms. Lane doing?”

Clark fought the urge to slam his head through the table, “Look, we don’t even know if he has powers. He’s half human, we have no idea how that’s going to affect him.”

“Well, you didn’t get most of you powers until you were, what was it Martha? Fourteen? Fifteen?” Jonathan said, “So he’s got time to grow into them.”

Clark sighed, “We’ll see,” he said.

“So about his name,” Martha said, deftly changing the subject, “Is there any name you were thinking of Clark?”

“Not particularly,” Clark said, “Can’t we let him choose?”

“Names are given by parents,” Martha said, “So, you don't have anything? I thought you actually wanted to give us grandkids one day?”

Clark sighed, “I do want kids. But this wasn't what I had in mind.”

“Well, we’d always thought we’d adopt,” Jonathan said, “Life’s funny like that.”

“Technically you did,” Clark pointed out.

“Stop teasing, both of you,” Martha said, “We still need a name.”

If Clark had a son, he’d always thought he’d name him ‘Jonathan’ after his father, ‘Jon’ for short, “I hadn’t though about any names,” he said.

“Hm, well we’ll think of something,” Martha said, smiling down at Superboy. She set a plate with a sandwich in front of him, “There’s pie once you finish this up sweetie.”

Superboy nodded and started eating with gusto, “He’s certainly got an appetite,” Jonathan said, “I suppose he is a growing boy and all.” He smiled at the little boy, completely at ease in a way Clark wished he could be.

Superboy smiled back up at him, shy, but bright. Clark felt a pang in his chest; his parents were right, he’d always wanted children. He wanted a family and a home, but he hadn’t wanted  _ this _ , whatever Superboy was. It felt as though all of his plans had been ripped out from under him, and he wasn’t going to get his perfect family. Instead he was stuck with this, with Superboy, a clone made from him and dumped in his lap because there was no other option.

“Can you guys watch him for a minute?” Clark asked, suddenly standing up, “I need to get out and get some air.”

Martha and Jonathan shared a telling glance, “Alright, but don't be gone too long. You know when dinner is.”

“Yeah, of course,” Clark said, already heading for the door, “I’ll see you in a bit!” He banged the back door open a little harder than he normally would, but he couldn’t bring himself to care too much right now. He needed to get out of the house.

With a quick look around to make sure no one was near enough to notice, Clark took to the sky, wishing he could just leave Superboy behind and be done with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Clark, get your shit together. Also Ma and Pa Kent are an adorable old couple.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this one is a little shorter, but oh well. Also, this has come up in the comments, but I actually haven't read that much Superman comics, and I'm more familiar with him from the cartoons and from Superboy comics. I'm also not as familiar with Jonathan and Martha, so I'm also pretty much winging it here.

Clark spent an hour flying above the clouds, trying to calm down. He was tempted to just go home for a while, back to Metropolis, to get his head together, but he knew that the boxes were there waiting for him, another reminder of what his life had become in the last day and a half. So he stayed above Smallville, trying to clear his head and not think about unpleasant things.

He did have to return eventually though, though he in no way felt ready at all, but he couldn’t run from this. He needed to face his problems, even if they were unpleasant. It was funny, he could charge straight into battle without batting a eye, but a child was causing him to get all bent out of shape.

Clark touched down out in the field rather than closer to the house, wanting to give himself some time to walk and brace himself. He couldn’t stall forever, though, and before he knew it, he was standing on the back porch.

Letting out a deep sigh, Clark reached for the door, “You can do this, you can do this,” he said to himself, trying to believe the words.

He could hear talking coming from the living room and went there, finding Jonathan on his armchair and Martha sitting on her loveseat, Superboy pulled up to sit on her lap. They were looking through an old family album, most of the photos black and white.

“This was your great-great uncle Garrett Kent,” Martha was explaining, “He raised some of the best horses in the area for years. He had a gift with them, and never had to raise a whip to any of them.”

“What are you doing?” Clark asked, coming more fully into the room.

“Teaching kiddo about his family history,” Jonathan answered, “He should know this stuff if he’s going to be a part of this family.”

Clark forced a smile, “That’s nice.”

If either of his parents noticed his discomfort (which they most certainly had), they didn't draw attention to it, “We’re also trying to figure out a good name for him,” Martha said, pulling Superboy back to her in a hug.

“Any luck?” Clark asked, sitting down on the couch.

“We were waiting for you,” Martha said, “We’ve got a few potential ideas. What do you think of ‘Gregory’?”

“That’s fine,” Clark said, wishing he’d stayed out longer.

Martha turned sharp eyes on him, “Clark,” she said firmly, “Take this seriously.”

Clark felt as though he’d shrunk about six inches, “I . . . never cared for that name,” he admitted.

Appeased, Martha settled back in her chair, “What about ‘Drew’?”

“No,” Clark said, “I don’t think it fits.”

“‘Frederick’?” Jonathan offered.

“I could never take anyone named ‘Freddy’ seriously,” Clark said, “I don't think so.”

“How about ‘Yosemite’? After your great great uncle?” Jonathan said.

“You can’t be serious.” Clark deadpanned.

Martha hummed, “I kind of like ‘Bruce’.”

“ _ No _ ,” Clark said, stifling a laugh, “Absolutely not.”

Martha huffed, “Well, how about Conner?” she said, a little softer. There was more meaning in that than the other names.

“Conner?” Clark asked, “Why Conner?”

“My mother’s maiden name,” Jonathan said, “Kind of how we ended up naming you ‘Clark’, Martha’s maiden name.”

“Evelyne Conners,” Martha said, “Sweet woman. Made me feel so accepted when we got together.” She smiled at Jonathan, “Taught me so much about keep this old place together.”

Jonathan smiled fondly back at his wife, “The first time I brought you home, you might have been her own daughter. She turned to me and told me, ‘Jonathan, you marry that girl the first chance you get. You’re never going to find another girl like her in this lifetime.’ So I did. Married the prettiest girl in the whole world and never regretted it for a minute.”

Martha giggled like a little girl and reached her hand out. Jonathan grinned brightly and took her weathered hand in his, holding it like it was the most precious china. Clark felt his chest warm, watching the two of them; even after so long together, they were still so in love. He wanted that one day, to grow old with someone he loved, loved so much it didn’t even feel like growin old.

Still, he wasn’t sure how comfortable he was giving Superboy such a loaded name. At the same time, he didn’t think he would be able to explain that to his parents. They had already accepted Superboy as part of the family, and that meant his name had to mean something. It had to come with some kind of weight, a connection to the rest of the family.

“I think that’s nice,” Clark forced out, “I think it fits.”

“What do you think sweetie?” Martha asked Superboy, “Do you think you like ‘Conner’?”

“That would be my name?” Superboy asked, looking up at her in a kind of awe, “I would be Conner?”

“You would be Conner,” Martha said, “And Superboy of course,” she said, knowing he might get upset about that.

“Conner,” Superboy said again, as if testing it out on his tongue, “I’m Conner.”

Martha smiled brightly, “Yes honey, you’re Conner.”

Superboy’s eyes seemed to light up, “I’m Conner!” he exclaimed.

Jonathan laughed, “You certainly are, Conner.”

Superboy jumped off of Martha’s lap and darted over to Jonathan, throwing his arms around him in a tight hug. Jonathan laughed and returned the hug, ruffling Superboy’s hair the way he used to do to Clark. Superboy smiled brightly and jumped up again, this time bounding over to Clark , arms outstretched. He stopped at the last second though, the exuberance draining from his face. He turned and went back to Martha, crawling up into her lap, putting his face into her neck. Martha put her arms around the little boy, rubbing his back gently, but Clark could feel the tension rising in the room.

“I’m going to get a start on dinner,” Martha said suddenly, “Conner, you want to help?”

Superboy nodded vigorously, more at ease than Clark had ever seen him.

Jonathan stood up and stretched, “Clark, why don't you come on outside with me? I need to do some work on the tractor.”

“Sure Pa,” Clark said, knowing a trap when he saw one, but knowing he wouldn’t be able to wiggle out of it. He followed his father out the door, glancing back once to see Superboy follow Martha to the kitchen, trailing after her like a lost puppy.

Clark and Jonathan walked towards the barn in silence. Clark closed the door once they were inside, waiting for Jonathan to grab his tools before putting a hand under the tractor and lifting it so Jonathan could get a look at the underside.

“So,” Jonathan said, walking right under the tractor, not an ounce of fear that Clark would drop the tonne of metal on his head, “You’re upset.”

“I’m not,” Clark defended, not looking at his father. He broke and glanced over, staring directly into Jonathan’s warm brown eyes. He sighed, “Okay, fine, I’m upset. This has been a very upsetting thing for me.”

Jonathan hummed, looking up into the guts of the tractor and starting to poke around. He didn’t say anything, knowing that Clark would talk when he was ready, now that he was started.

“I mean, my DNA was taken from me and I was  _ cloned _ so that that clone could be my replacement or kill me and  _ then _ replace me. And everyone expects me to just take care of him like that’s not what he is and be totally okay with it,” Clark continued, “It’s been a  _ day _ at most, I’m still freaking out about it. I don't know what to do, I’ve never had to deal with anything like this before. I don't think anyone has had to deal with something like this before.”

“Mm, I wouldn’t say that,” Jonathan said, “Lots of folks learn they’ve got kids they didn't know about. It’s not so uncommon.”

“Yes, but they usually have some sort of culpability. There’s usually more . . . involvement in the creating of the child than this,” Clark said.

Jonathan chuckled, “You’re probably right,” he said.

“It’s not like I’m his father,” Clark said, “I’m a gene donor at best.”

Jonathan grunted in displeasure, “Now hold on, don't go tossing statements around like that so easy,” he said, “You’re going to give that poor kid more of a complex than he’s already got.”

“Already?” Clark asked, “What do you mean?”

“I mean that little move he did just now. He went to hug you, but he stopped. A kid doesn’t stop a hug like that unless he knows he’s very unwanted,” Jonathan said, “You tense up whenever he comes near you, you barely look at him if you can help it, and I don’t think I’ve seen you touch him outside of carrying him here, which I’m going to assume you only did because there was no other way.”

Clark felt his face grow a little hot, ashamed to have been caught out so easily, “It’s only been a day,” he said.

“And to that boy, it’s been his whole life,” Jonathan said, “You gotta learn to relax a bit son, or it’s always going to be like this. You’re never going to get used to each other of you don’t let him be a kid around you.”

“That’s easy for you to say, he’s not your clone!” Clark snapped. He winced a minute later, knowing he was really going to get it now.

Jonathan took a deep breath and walked back to his work table, putting his tools down with a little more force than necessary. He stood there with his back to Clark for a minute, before turning around, “Put it down and face me dead on.”

Clark did as he was told, knowing that anything else was just going to get him in further trouble. He faced his father straight on, looking down at him but not at all feeling more in control of the situation. When Jonathan Kent gave you a lecture, he gave it right to your eyes, so he knew you were paying attention.

“I’m going to tell you this, and I want you to swear to me that you never tell your Ma, ever. Got it?” Jonathan said.

That got Clark’s attention. Jonathan never kept secrets from Martha, not ever that Clark knew about, “Why?” he asked.

“Clark, swear it,” Jonathan ordered.

This was serious, “I swear,” Clark said.

Jonathan stared straight into his eyes, “Good. Now, before I start this story, I want you to know that I love you. You’re my son and nothing changes that. Not genes, not powers, not planets. I raised you and that means you’re my boy.”

Clark felt his chest warm a little, though now he was even more confused as to what Jonathan was going to tell him, “I know Pa.”

Jonathan took a deep breath, like he was psyching himself up for whatever came next, though his eyes never left Clark’s, “When me and Martha pulled you out of that crater, my first instinct was to call someone.”

“Call someone?” Clark asked, “Who?”

“Government probably, police, something,” Jonathan said, “Alien ship crash lands and baby crawls out, not a lot of people are going to be immediately alright with that.”

“You were,” Clark protested weakly.

“You’re Ma was,” Jonathan clarified, “She’d been wanting a baby ever since we got married. She’d tried so hard and failed so many times. Seventeen years of being married and she couldn't have the one thing she wanted more than anything. You know we’re not religious, but she prayed every night for a baby of her own. We were only just considering adoption when you came along. She took one look at you and you were immediately hers. Nothing was gonna pry you out of her hands while they still had life in them, not even me,” he said.

“Pa.” Clark’s throat felt tight, “You wanted to get rid of me?”

Clark had always been told that they had both wanted him right on sight. That they had both fallen in love with the strange little baby that crawled out of the alien ship, and decided he was theirs and they were going to take care of him. This was turning that whole story on it’s head.

“Now I ain’t proud of it, believe me, I ain’t proud,” Jonathan said, and Clark could see a bit of wetness around his eyes, “But yes, at first I thought it would be safer if we sent you away. I spent the first week thinking that. I spent months going still any time I heard a car come down the road, certain that someone had finally come to take you away. But that first week, I was of the opinion that it would be a good thing.”

Jonathan stopped and took a deep breath, composing himself, “But the more time I spent with you, watched you play and giggle and light up Martha’s whole world, the more I came to realize that you were just a baby. A strange little baby from somewhere out beyond the stars, but just a baby. You weren’t guilty of nothin’, and you needed someone to love you and take care of you. So I loved you, and I took care of you, and me and your Ma raised you to be good.”

“And now things have come full circle Clark.” Jonathan stepped forward and put his hands on Clark’s shoulders, squeezing them tight, “You’ve gotta take that boy, that strange little alien you have no clue about, and you raise him and you make him good. I’m not saying it’s gonna be easy, or that it won’t be scary as all hell sometimes, but I will say this;”

“Give yourself a little time,” Jonathan said, “It doesn’t have to come right away. I know a bunch of guys who got skittish when their own babies that they  _ planned _ for were born, thinking they couldn't possibly do anything like love them. But they all came around in time. You said you’ve got two weeks from work?” Clark nodded, too choked up to get any words out.

“Good. Now you take those two weeks and you let yourself fall in love. Maybe you’ll have a moment, a rush all at once, and maybe it’ll be slow. But you love that boy Clark Kent. You love him like I love you. Would you ever say I don’t love you boy?”

Clark shook his head, “No, never,” he said.

Jonathan squeezed his shoulders again, harder this time, “Even after what I just told you?”

Clark looked down into his father’s warm brown eyes. All his life, he’d known them to be warm and inviting and always filled with love, even when he was mad at him. He’d never once in his life felt unloved by his parents, even when he felt like there was something he was missing. Jonathan had never given him any reason to think that he had ever been unwanted.

“No Pa, I don’t think that,” Clark said.

Jonathan smiled, “That’s my boy,” he said. He pulled Clark down, wrapping his arms around him tightly. Clark returned the hug, breathing deeply as he felt tears prick at his eyes.

“It’ll come son, you just gotta let it,” Jonathan said, rubbing Clark’s back, “He’s just a little boy from unfortunate circumstances, remember that.”

“I’ll try Pa,” Clark said into his father’s shoulder. He was so much taller than Jonathan now. He had been since he’d been a teen really, but as an adult, he was just so much bigger than him. Even still, he felt so protected in his father’s arms, safe and loved and fitting just right.

They stayed that way for a while, absorbing and processing what had just transpired between the two of them. They eventually pulled back, still a little teary eyed, but smiling now.

“Don’t you ever tell your Ma about that,” Jonathan said, “I’d get in a whole world of trouble even now. Hell she might never speak to me again.”

“I won’t, I promise,” Clark said, reaching up to swipe the remaining tears out of his eyes, “I never want to even think what she might do to you if she knew.”

Jonathan laughed, “Our little secret, alright son?” he said, clapping Clark on the back.

Clark smiled and nodded, “Our little secret.”

Jonathan smiled, but it faded, “I’m sorry Clark. I’m sorry I felt like that at first.”

Clark shook his head, “You don’t have anything to be sorry for Pa. I never would have guessed if you never told me. And I . . . I understand why you would have felt that way.” It certainly put a few things in perspective.

Jonathan let out a deep breath, “Alright,” he said, “Why don't we finish poking around the tractor and see if we can’t find out why it’s been fussy at me lately?”

Clark nodded and they got back to work on the tractor. They chatted pleasantly about their respective lives, but it was all light hearted and easy. There was no need to bring up anything else unpleasant for the moment.

The sun was starting to get a little low in the sky when they finally finished up with the tractor. The two of them made their way back to the house, walking at a leisurely pace. Clark felt a lot calmer and more composed than he had been since this mess started. He finally felt like he might be able to handle this, at least a little.

They came in through the back door, which opened directly into the kitchen. Martha and Superboy were both at the counter, Martha peeling and chopping apples while Superboy mixed the slices in a bowl with sugar and cinnamon.

Martha looked up as they came in, “Hello boys, Conner’s helping me make a pie for after dinner.”

“I’m helping,” Superboy said, not looking up from his task. He was so dedicated to stirring the contents of the bowl that it was almost cute.

Martha smiled and ruffled the boy’s hair, “Dinner will be soon. You boys go up and wash.”

Clark obediently headed upstairs to the bathroom to wash off the dust and grime that came with being in the barn for an extended period. He thoroughly washed his hands and splashed water on his face. As he was drying off, he looked up into the mirror, noting his bright cobalt eyes reflected back at him. The same eyes that Superboy had now, which unnerved him so much. With a deep sigh, Clark turned the tap off and exited the bathroom.

When he got down to the dining room, Jonathan was already starting to set out the plates. Clark joined him, remembering at the last minute that they needed an extra place setting for Superboy. He finished laying out the forks just as Martha and Superboy started bringing in the food. Martha had made quite the dinner, as she usually did when they had a guest or something to celebrate. Superboy carefully carried every dish to the table, though none of it seemed heavy to him at all.

Taking a deep breath, Clark sat down next to Superboy, trying to keep himself relaxed and not turning away from him. Superboy tensed a little, glancing up at him out of the corner of his eye, like he couldn’t quite believe that Clark was choosing to sit next to him. Clark gave him a smile, trying not to let it feel forced. Superboy smiled back up at him, relaxing almost immediately. Martha smiled brightly and Jonathan gave him a little nod, and Clark felt the knots in his stomach untangle a little more.

Maybe he could do this, he thought. If he had the help and support of his family and friends, he might be able to do this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This actually made me a little emotional when I was writing it. I'm not sure what the comics canon is for how Jonathan and Martha first reacted to Clark, but I figured this was at least in the realm of possibility. I also made up Jonathan's mother's name, so maybe it's different in the comics, but according to the wiki page I looked at, they named Kal-El 'Clark' after Martha's maiden name, Martha Clark. So I figured they'd keep up the tradition (especially since Clark doesn't want to name him 'Jonathan'). Anyway, if someone wants to fill me in on what the canon is for the Kents, feel free to do so.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So before I begin, this chapter is going to be a little intense. Clark is a total asshole and there's discussion of child abandonment (with a good home in mind, but still).

Clark spent the first week or so of his stay at the farm trying to follow his father’s advice, letting Superboy closer to him without tensing. It wasn't easy all the time, but as the days went by, he felt less and less tense around the boy. He didn’t think he felt ‘love’, not yet at least, but he’d stopped feeling uneasy around him all the time. He was making progress, and he had to be content with that.

Perhaps what was helping was how much Superboy was coming out of his shell as the days went by. His movements had improved, and he no longer walked and moved stiffly. He was starting to learn how to play, and be a normal child. He still took commands as orders to be followed (Clark had explained this to his parents and how they had to be careful with what they said), but he was starting to understand that the things he had been ‘taught’ at Cadmus weren’t really the truth. Superboy was starting to become an exuberant, happy, normal child with a deep desire to help and please people.

“He’s going to need papers,” Jonathan said one day, watching Superboy run around the backyard, playing something that only made sense to him, “Some sort of birth certificate or adoption papers.”

“He’s going to need a lot of stuff,” Clark said, “I need to make a list.”

“It’s going to be harder than it was for you,” Martha said, “Everything is all on computers now. Not like it was thirty years ago. We managed to forge your papers pretty well on our own.”

“Plus he’s older,” Jonathan said, “He’s going to need records. Places where he went to school, who was looking after him before he came to you.”

“I have a friend who can help,” Clark said, knowing Bruce would be able to get the necessary papers without any trouble at all, “He actually bought Wolf for him.”

“That was nice of him,” Martha said, “He sure loves that toy.”

“It was the first toy he went for out of a whole box,” Clark said, “He seems to like the softness.”

“Maybe it’s one of them sensory things,” Jonathan said, “Like Ryan and Marcus’s little girl. She’s got some kind of mental handicap thing.”

“Eloise has autism, Jonathan,” Martha said, “It’s a social disorder I think.”

“Ryan and Marcus adopted finally?” Clark asked, “When was this?”

“Didn’t we tell you? They adopted a little girl about a year ago,” Martha said, “Eloise, sweet little thing. She can’t talk much, but she loves animals so much. It’s so cute.”

“She’s always carting around this little stuffed cat thing,” Jonathan said, “Marcus was explaining that the soft feeling helps keep her calm.”

“I see,” Clark said, watching Superboy toss around the wolf plushie. It was surprisingly durable (and easy to clean), “It could be something like that. We don't really know much about his mentality other than what Martian Manhunter found in his head.”

“Which you said wasn't much,” Jonathan said.

“Poor baby,” Martha cooed, pulling out a stitch from the blanket she was knitting for Superboy. She insisted that he needed a homemade blanket, that it was part of being in the family.

“So when’s he getting off to school?” Jonathan asked, “He should be in grade four by now, shouldn’t he?”

“It’s too close to the end of the year to enrol him now,” Clark said, “I’m going to have to homeschool him a little until next year comes. Plus, he’s got a bunch of other issues we need to figure out before he starts meeting people who don’t know about his history, who can’t know.”

“But he should probably be socializing with other children, right?” Martha said, “He needs to make some friends his age. You can’t keep him locked up away from the rest of the world forever.”

Clark let out a sigh and rubbed the back of his neck, “I know, but it’s going to be difficult.” He wondered if Bruce or Barry might be willing to let Superboy meet with Robin and Kid Flash. They were a little older, but at least they would be able to know what Superboy was without compromising Clark’s identity.

“Well, it has to happen some time,” Jonathan said.

Clark let out a hum of agreement. He scanned the backyard, trying to spot Superboy. When he realized he couldn’t see him, he sat up a little straighter, “Where the heck did he go?”

Jonathan and Martha both looked up, slightly alarmed. Clark used his X-Ray vision to try and find Superboy, finally spotting him climbing the old tree that marked the corner of the yard. Clark also saw the dead branch that Superboy was about to grab onto.

“Superboy!” he shouted, leaping up.

Superboy grabbed the branch, and it held for only a second before it broke with a loud crack. The boy tumbled backwards out of the tree, slamming his back against the lower branches before flipping upside down and falling to the ground, landing right on his head with a thud.

Clark unfroze himself from the porch and was at Superboy’s side in an instant, “Don't move,” he ordered, not thinking about the boy’s complexes at the moment, mind more oriented to broken bones.

Scanning sits body with X-Ray, Clark found nothing. No cracked spine or ribs, no broken back. It didn't even look like Superboy would bruise. Letting out a breath, Clark sat back in the grass just as Martha and Jonathan came over.

“If he alright?” Martha asked, breathless with concern.

“He’s fine,” Clark said, “He perfectly alright. Not even a scrape.”

“I fell,” Superboy said, sitting up, “It didn’t hurt at all.”

Jonathan and Martha both let out a sigh of relief, “You gave us quite the scare there, boy. What were you thinking?”

Superboy looked back up to the tree, “I wanted to see if I could fly if I jumped from the top. I’m supposed to be able to fly.”

Clark felt anger bubble up from his core, hot and liquid, “Trying to  _ fly _ !?” He stood up from the grass and dragged Superboy up by the arm, “You  _ can't  _ fly, Superboy. What the hell made you think you could?”

Superboy turned wide blue eyes on him, “I-I wanted to see if I could. I thought if I tried real hard, maybe I could do it.”

“You  _ can't  _ fly, Superboy,” Clark said more forcefully this time, “Trying to do this was just stupid and reckless!”

“Now son,” Jonathan said, taking a step forward, “Conner was only doing what kids do. It’s on us to keep an eye on him. He’s just a kid.”

“He’s  _ not _ a kid!” Clark snapped, “You’d think the people at Cadmus would have had the foresight to put some goddamn common sense into his head when they were filling it with whatever other garbage they put in it! But I guess that’s too complicated for a wea-”

“ _ Clark Joseph Kent _ !” Martha screeched, “You finish that sentence and I swear to God I’ll never speak to you again!”

Anything else Clark might have said died on his tongue. He’d never heard Martha scream like that. Clark realized belatedly that he was still holding Superboy’s arm in a tight grip, one that might have fractured a human’s arm. Superboy’s eyes were filled with tears, which were spilling down his cheeks. He looked absolutely devastated.

Clark felt his world tilt a little as he realized what he’d been saying, right in front of Superboy. He dropped his arm like it burned him and took a step back, “I . . . I-I’m sorry. I didn't mean to- that’s not what I-” Clark couldn't get the words out, his head too much of a jumbled mess to form coherent sentences.

Just as Clark was considering flying off, he felt a yank at his ear. Martha dragged him back to the house, pulling him roughly, knowing she couldn't hurt him, “You, come with me. Jonathan, sit with Conner,” she growled.

Clark let himself be dragged; behind him, he could hear Superboy start to sob, slightly muffled as he buried his face into Jonathan’s shirt. He felt his heart clench, knowing he’d been the cause of that.

Martha took Clark back inside the house, into the kitchen. She grabbed a chair from the table and dragged it out with a clatter, “Sit,” she instructed. Clark dropped himself in the chair so fast he nearly spilled out of it. Martha was  _ furious _ with him, and he didn't want to test her anger any further.

A large metal bowl was put in front of him, along with a bucket of pea pods, “Start shucking,” Martha ordered.

Clark got busy, grabbing the first pod and emptying it out of peas. Martha turned to the counter and grabbed her cutting board and her kitchen knife. She pulled some vegetables out from the fridge and started hacking away, her hard earned skill the only thing keeping her slices even and her fingers intact.

They stayed like that for a long time, Clark shucking peas and Martha chopping vegetables. Clark could feel the dread building in his stomach like a sickness. He felt awful about what he’d said, but he knew Martha wasn't about to let him off easily.

Finally after all the vegetables had been chopped, Martha set down her knife and leaned against the counter, “You know my mother ran out on me, yes?”

“Yes,” clark choked out around the lump in his throat.

“I was ten years, old at the time. Not that much older than Conner, really. The day she left I decided nothing was more important to me than family,” Martha said.

“I know Ma,” Clark said, digging out a husk he’d accidentally dropped in the bowl.

Martha turned around to face him, tears in her eyes, “Do you know that?” she asked, “Because it sure didn't seem like it out there. Do you have any idea what that poor boy must be feeling right now?”

Clark didn't say anything, knowing that there wasn't a good answer to that. He looked down into the bowl of peas in shame.

“Did me or your Pa ever once yell at you like that, even when you made a mistake?” Martha asked, “Did we ever tell you that you weren't our real son just because we adopted you? Even when we were righteously mad at you, did we ever yell so badly that we made you cry?”

Clark shook his head, wishing the ground would swallow him up, while at the same time knowing he deserved every bit of this, “I’m sorry, Ma,” he said softly.

“I'm not the one you need to be sorry at,” Martha said, “You realize what you just put that boy through? Jesus Christ the things you said Clark. How the hell could you think that it was okay to say those things?”

“I just—” Clark tried to collect his thoughts, “I was just so  _ angry _ .”

“I don't want to hear excuses like that Clark. What you just did was unacceptable. Conner is too young to know that you doing that isn't his fault. He’s not going to understand and he’s going to blame himself for you yelling,” Martha said, “And Christ Clark, what on earth was all that anyway? How could you say something like that?”

“I . . . I don't know,” Clark said, “This has been really hard for me. I’m trying to get used to it, I’m trying to love him, but it’s really hard not to think about where he came from, what he was meant for.”

Martha let out a long, deep sigh, “Clark, no one picks how they came about. No one asks to be a certain way, to be born to a certain circumstance. You didn't pick to be the only survivor of Krypton, did you?”

Clark shook his head, “No Ma.”

“And that poor boy didn't pick to be a clone. It’s not his fault that those scientists or whatever took your DNA and made him. But he’s certainly not what they made him, that boy is no more a weapon than you are.”

“Yes Ma,” Clark said.

“And it’s not his fault you’re mad at him, either, which you shouldn't be. He’s just a little boy, and he doesn't understand why you’re mad. So, you have two options now,” Martha said.

Clark lifted his head a little, wondering what she was going to tell him.

“You can either go back out there and talk to Conner, tell him how you feel and why you felt it, and why it’s not his fault that you’re an ass.” Martha took a deep breath, “Or you can go. You can go back to the city and leave Conner here with us, and not come back for a long time. Not until he knows that he’s loved here, and he’s learned to stop thinking of you as his father.”

Clark flinched, feeling all kinds of awful when he realized how tempted he was by the second option. It would be so incredibly easy to leave Superboy with his parents and let them take care of him, but he knew that wasn't an option for several reasons. His parents had been in their late thirties when they found him, and they were much too old now to be running after a ten year old on their own. They also still weren't certain about a lot of things with Superboy, like how his human side would affect him, and the best place for him to be so they could keep an eye on him was close to the Justice League, and therefore close to Clark. He was also certain that Martha would never forgive him if he left. She might get over it eventually, but it would break her heart. Family was the most important thing to her in the entire world, and if Clark left Superboy with her, she’d always feel like she failed somehow in raising Clark, in trying to make him understand why family was so important.

Not to mention, Clark didn't think he would ever forgive himself if he abandoned Superboy.

“I’ll go talk to him,” Clark said quietly.

Martha let out a breath, “Good,” she said, “Finish shucking those peas first.”

“Yes Ma,” Clark said, returning to his task. It was going to be a while before she fully forgave his outburst, and he was already thinking of what repairs he could do around the house to help make up for his actions.

He spent another hour shucking peas (there were three more buckets of peas after the first one), sitting in silence in the kitchen while Martha started getting dinner ready. Clark was tempted to use his enhanced hearing to find out what Superboy was up to, but he didn't think that would be appropriate. Hopefully he would be able to find him later, and hopefully by then he’d be able to think of something to say.

Clark dropped the last pea into the bowl. Wordlessly, he gathered the empty husks into the buckets to take out to the compost. He paused for a moment at the door, wondering if he should say something. He didn’t think there was anything he could say, so he left the house and headed for the compost trough.

Once he was finished dumping the husks, Clark scanned around the property. He noticed Jonathan out front, working on the truck, but he could see Superboy sitting on the roof. How the heck had he gotten up there?

Clark decided to talk to his father first, hoping to get some advice on what to do, what he should say. He came around the side of the house, still feeling like the worst thing in the world. How did parents do this?

“Hey Clark,” Jonathan said when he noticed his son coming towards him, “Ma yell at you?”

“No,” Clark said, “She was really upset though.”

“I can imagine,” Jonathan said, “It’s worse when she doesn’t yell, that’s when you know she’s  _ really _ pissed at you.”

Clark nodded; he glanced up towards the roof, “How is he?” he asked.

“Go on up and check for yourself,” Jonathan said, “This is a mess you need to fix for yourself.”

“What should I say to him?” Clark asked, “I have no idea what I’m doing. How did you do this?”

“Do what?” Jonathan asked.

“Raise me.” Clark said, “I feel like I’m doing everything wrong.”

Jonathan chuckled, “I’m gonna let you in on the secret of parenting; nobody know what they’re doing. Every kid is different and every parent is different. What’s gonna work for someone isn’t gonna work for everyone. Everyone has advice and none of it works. You’re gonna feel like you make mistake after mistake after mistake.”

Clark hadn’t been expecting that, “Was that how you felt when I was growing up?”

“Every day,” Jonathan said, “So, despite what I just said, I’m going to give you some advice. When you go up there, be honest. Kids are smarter than we give them credit for. I’m sure if you explain yourself, he’ll understand.”

Clark sighed, “I want to be honest, but I don't want him to hate me.”

“Clark, that boy looks at you like the stars shine in your eyes,” Jonathan said, “All he wants is for you to acknowledge him. He’s so desperate for your approval Clark.”

Clark looked back up to where he was certain Superboy was sitting, “How’d he get up there anyway?” he asked.

“He climbed,” Jonathan said, “He’s pretty good at it after a little trial and error.”

“He didn’t fall again?” Clark asked.

“Oh no, he did,” Jonathan said, “Looks like we can cross invulnerability off the ‘potential’ powers list, he’s got it for sure.”

Clark sighed, “That was really dangerous.”

Jonathan chuckled, “As stubborn as you were when you were that age, he’s twice as bad.”

“That’s probably not going to make my job any easier, is it?” Clark said.

“Probably not,” Jonathan said, “Go on up there and talk to him.”

Clark let out another sigh and flew up to the roof. He spotted Superboy on the other side, facing the sunset. The boy looked up at Clark as he sat down next to him, then quickly put his head back into his knees. Clark felt like a heel, making him feel this way.

“Su—” Clark stopped, “Conner, I’m really sorry about what I said earlier.”

Superboy let out a little sigh, “It’s okay. I know what I am.”

If Clark had felt like a heel before, now he just felt like a pile of shit, “No, Conner, you’re not a weapon. I’m so sorry for saying that.”

“But that’s what I was made for,” Superboy said, “They made me to be a weapon. I’m a weapon.”

“No, Conner, you’re not,” Clark said, “Those people that . . .  _ made _ you wanted you to think that’s all you are, so that they could control you. But you're more than what they made you, Conner.” He wasn't sure where these words were coming from, but now that they started he couldn't stop them.

Superboy looked up at Clark, “I am?” he asked, voice soft.

Clark looked down at Superboy, into those bright blue eyes that were so much like his own, “Yes, Conner, you are. You get to choose what you want to be, no one else. No one controls you, you get to decide who and what you are.”

Slowly, Clark reached out and out his arm around Superboy’s shoulder, pulling him close to his side. Superboy hesitated a moment, then turned and wrapped his arms around Clark’s ribs, squeezing him tightly. Clark tensed, but forced himself to relax, to put his arms around Superboy and hug him back. It felt awkward at first, but as he let himself relax, it felt more and more natural to hold Superboy so close. Clark could feel his breathing under his hands, his tiny lungs working, making his fragile little bones move and shift under pale, unblemished skin. Clark noticed that his hair was actually a lot more curly at the ends than his own. The difference was slight, but it was there. For some reason, Clark actually found it endearing.

“I’m really sorry I said those things, Conner,” he said, “I was just really scared when I saw you fall.”

Superboy fisted Clark’s shirt, “I just wanted to fly. You can fly, I should be able to fly.”

“I couldn't fly, not until I was fifteen,” Clark said, “Don’t worry so much about what you think you're supposed to be, or what other people think you're supposed to be. You just be you, okay?”

Superboy pulled back from the hug a little so he could look up at Clark. He gave a shy, but bright smile, eyes shining. Clark felt himself smiling back, this time without having to force it. He reached up and ran his fingers through Superboy’s—through  _ Conner’s _ dark hair, taking in the softness of it. Conner let out a little sigh of pleasure and leaned into the touch. He pressed himself back to Clark’s chest, nuzzling into his shirt, seemingly content to stay there for however long Clark would let him.

Clark wrapped an arm around Conner’s small body and held him close, realizing that he didn't think he’d mind staying like this for a while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, this chapter got a little intense. I don't know if Martha's mom really ran out on her, but I kind of like the idea, so I put that in there. If anyone knows the real canon behind Martha's parents, feel free to let me know.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter got a smidge longer than the others, but idgaf. I had a lot of fun writing this chapter, there are a lot of things that were so fun to do here. I'm going to try to finish this fic before my parents come to visit me in a couple of weeks and then school starts after that, but IDK if I'll be able to.

Bonding with Conner came much more easily after that. As he spent more time with Conner, Clark came to enjoy it more and more. He started seeing him less as a clone and more as a child. It wasn't perfect, but it was improving.

Perhaps the biggest improvement was that now he and Conner had talks. Every night, before bed, Clark would sit with Conner and they would talk. Mostly it was about what had happened over the course of the day, but sometimes they would touch on deeper things, like Conner’s feelings on his ‘birth’, the nature of Clark’s secret identity, and what it would be like for Conner to grow up. Clark was starting to understand Conner a little more, and they were starting to actually build a relationship, as slow going as it was.

However, Clark’s two weeks were up and he needed to get back to the city. As much as it was nice to stay at the farm, out of the way of anyone else, Clark had to keep his job. He was insanely grateful that no Justice League business had come up (though he suspected that some of the other members were covering for him while he dealt with Conner), but it wouldn’t hold forever. Perry would give Clark more time off over his cold dead body, so Clark had no choice but to head back to Metropolis.

“You sure you’ll be alright?” Martha asked, packing up some pies for Clark to take back with him.

“We’ll be fine,” Clark said, smiling, “Conner needs to settle into life in the city at some point anyway, plus Perry isn’t going to give me any more time off.”

Martha sighed, “It was nice to have you boys over for so long,” she said.

Clark rolled his eyes, “I’ll bring him over as much as I can,” he promised.

“It’s up to you honey,” Martha said, though she seemed happier than she had a second ago. She handed him the pies, “Remember to put these in the freezer when you get home.”

“I will Ma, thank you,” Clark said, bending his head so she could kiss his cheek.

Conner darted into the kitchen, nearly running into Clark. He always had so much energy, Clark was a little worried that an apartment might not be able to contain it. He’d have to figure something out for Conner to do during the day while he was at work.

“Ready to head out?” Clark asked Conner, reaching out to pat his head.

Conner wrinkled his nose, but leaned into the touch anyway, “Yeah, I’m ready to fly.”

Clark laughed, “I’m sure you are. You have everything packed?”

“Um,” Conner hummed before running back out of the room, probably to go pack like he was supposed to. Clark and Martha both chuckled.

“He’s going to be a bit more of a rascal than you were, I can tell,” Martha said.

“Maybe he’ll settle down as he gets older,” Clark said hopefully. He didn’t know if he was ready to handle a ten year old, let alone a rebellious one.

Jonathan chuckled, “Don’t count on it,” he said, “But if you ever need a break, you can bring him out here. Lots of space to run wild.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Clark said, “I should probably go check to make sure he’s actually packing.”

Conner was indeed packing, folding everything neatly before tossing it into his bag in a pile. His mannerisms were so baffling sometimes, “Need help?” Clark asked.

Conner shook his head, “I can do it,” he said, tossing a shirt folded into a neat square before tossing it on top of the tower of clothing sitting in his duffle bag.

Clark chuckled, “You’re never going to be able to close that, you know,” he said, “Here, you fold, I’ll sort, alright?”

Conner looked up at him, deciding. In two weeks, he’d made a lot of progress understanding what ‘orders’ were and what was more ‘suggestion’. Still, he tended to lean on the side of doing what he was told, and getting upset when he couldn’t handle it. Clark had had to stop a bit of a meltdown the other day when Conner had dropped a few eggs after collecting them from the chickens.

“Okay,” Conner said eventually. Clark smiled and began to sort through the pile of clothes. He was quite sure that he hadn’t brought this many clothes when they came to the farm, but Martha just couldn't help herself apparently. She’d pulled out some of his old things to give to Conner, like the sweater that he’d gotten for Christmas when he was eleven.

Once everything was folded and put away, Clark zipped up the duffle bag, “You don't want to put Wolf in the bag?” he asked.

Conner hugged Wolf tightly and shook his head, “No,” he said, rubbing his cheek against the soft fur.

“Okay, but remember to hold onto him tightly, okay?” Clark said. He reached out a hand for Conner to take.

Conner’s body heat was still a little odd, but it was no longer jarring when they came into contact. If Clark were completely honest with himself, it was actually nice to touch someone and not feel cold for once.

Not that Clark was completely honest with himself just yet.

Baby steps.

“Ma, Pa, we’re ready to go,” Clark called as they came downstairs.

“Just a minute honey,” Martha called, still in the kitchen, “Don’t forget your pies.”

“I won’t,” Clark said, just managing not to roll his eyes. He took the tote bag of pies from his mother, “Anything else we can’t forget?”

“Yes actually, but this is for Conner,” Martha said. She walked off and pulled out a hand knitted blanket from her knitting supplies, “I managed to get this finished last night. It’s not very elaborate, but it’s nice and soft.”

Conner took the blanket, eyes wide. He ran his hands over the soft material, interlocking blue and red strands in a simple zig-zag pattern, and hugged it close to his body, “Thank you,” he said.

Martha smiled, “You’re very welcome, sweetheart,” she said.

Conner took a hesitant step forward, and Martha closed the gap, pulling him in for a hug. Conner nuzzled into her in a way that most ten year olds would probably be embarrassed by. Clark smiled slightly; Conner didn't seem to have a concept of embarrassment, and absorbed everything without any kind of self-consciousness.

Jonathan hugged Conner next, “You try and stay out of trouble, alright?” he said, ruffling his hair.

“I’ll try,” Conner said.

Jonathan smiled and stood up, facing Clark, “You go easy on him, okay?” he said.

Clark nodded, feeling the little curl of shame from a week ago flare up, “I’ll do my best.”

“That’s all anyone can ask for, hon,” Martha said, stepping forward to hug her son, “You just remember to call us when you need help.”

“I will, I promise,” Clark said, wrapping his arms around her.

Once everyone had gotten a hug from everyone and all the goodbyes were said, Clark took Conner’s hand and led him back down to where they’d landed when they’d first arrived. It was the best place to take off on the property since it was a bit downhill and had a large tree overshadowing it, giving the area some concealment. Clark scanned around first anyway, just in case, then turned to Conner.

“Ready?” he asked.

Conner nodded and lifted his arms so Clark could scoop him up into a secure hold. Clark held him tightly, letting his put an arm around his neck and grip his shirt. After one last check to make sure they weren’t being watched, and that they had everything, Clark took off into the sky.

* * *

Clark’s phone rang almost the moment he touched down on the balcony of his apartment. He quickly got them inside and put Conner down so he could answer. He glanced at the caller ID and raised an eyebrow.

“How do you do that?” he asked as an answer.

“How was Smallville?” Bruce asked, avoiding the question entirely.

Clark sighed, “It was fine,” he said.

“And Superboy?” Bruce asked. If Clark didn't know any better, he’d think there was a hint of trepidation in his voice.

“Conner’s fine,” Clark said, “We hit a couple snags here and there, but things are starting to come around.”

“Conner, hm?” Bruce said, “Have you given any thought to Conner’s backstory?”

Clark handed Conner his duffle bag, “Not too much, I’ve been focussed on other things. I know he’s going to need paperwork done up.”

“I’ve got a few things started,” Bruce said (because of course he did), “The best scenario I’ve managed to come up with is a traumatic experience in foster care.”

“Traumatic?” Clark asked, “Why traumatic?”

“A traumatic experience in foster care would account for his strange mannerisms, as well as explain his amnesia, or a reluctance to talk about his past,” Bruce explained, “Conner has no memories beyond these last two weeks, so you need a way to explain why he can't remember anything. Repressed memories or amnesia is the best way to do that. Alternatively, an accident involving brain trauma would do the same thing.”

Clark groaned and rubbed his eyes, “Right,” he said, “And you think foster care is the better way to go?”

“A strong parental bond is more likely to be remembered, even after a traumatic experience. Foster care eschews both parental bonding and peer bonding. So, the easiest explanation is a long stint in foster care with some sort of trauma that made Conner lose his memories, shortly after which you were alerted to his presence.” Bruce said, “Is this acceptable?”

Clark sighed, “I suppose it is,” he said, “It seems a little harsh though.”

“Would you rather come up with something else?” Bruce asked.

“No, you’re right about it being the best explanation,” Clark said, looking over to where Conner was playing with Wolf, “What should I do if someone asks about it though?”

“Tell them you don't know much about what happened,” Bruce said, “People aren’t likely to ask a child about his traumas, and if you don't go into it too much, people will back off. I’m constructing a story, but the more details, the more likely you are to get caught out.”

“Alright,” Clark said, “So, the less details I can give, the better. Anything in particular I need to do?”

“You’ll need to sign some documents,” Bruce said, “I’m falsifying most of it, but they’ll still need your signature in places. It needs to be as close to the real thing as possible.”

“Okay, send over whatever you need to,” Clark said, “I have to get my apartment figured out, so I’ll talk to you later.”

“I’ll send everything over by tomorrow,” Bruce said, “It should arrive in the morning. Sign what you need to and then fax them back to me so I can put them into the computer files.”

“I will, thank you Bruce, you’ve been really helpful,” Clark said, “Oh, and thanks for all the toys. Conner really loves the wolf plushie.”

“It’s made by a company that helps protect wolves in the wild. They do a lot of good work,” Bruce said, “Make sure you get the papers signed and faxed as soon as possible.” The line went dead as Bruce hung up.

Clark sighed and put his phone away. He looked over to where Conner was starting to go through the other boxes of toys that Clark hadn’t had time to sort through earlier. Conner brought out the giant bucket of LEGO and opened it. He scooped out a handful and started to click the pieces together experimentally. Clark smiled a little and went to put Martha’s pies in the fridge.

“Conner, I’m going to step out for a little while. Will you be okay here on your own?” he asked.

“Where are you going?” Conner asked, “Are you going to go save the world? Can I come?”

Clark stifled a laugh, “No, I’m going downstairs to talk to the landlady,” he said, “I need you to stay here for a bit. I won’t be long.”

Conner looked disappointed, “Fine,” he said.

“Alright, I won’t be long, I promise,” Clark said. He had to speak to the landlady about getting a place that was big enough for both himself and Conner.

Mrs. Judith Atchison and her wife Abilene had owned the building for about a decade. The ten story building was a little squashed up beside some of the larger buildings around it, but it was well maintained and in a decent neighborhood. Clark had chosen it for its location and relatively fair rent, as well as its privacy. Superman could come and go with little trouble if he used the balcony and was quick enough.

Judy and Abilene lived on the third floor while Clark lived on the seventh, so he had to take the stairs down. The ancient elevator had recently undergone an inspection and was ruled unsafe, so it was shut down until repairs could be made. Clark didn't mind so much, but he always made a point to help his upstairs neighbor—Heather, a single mother of twin boys—with her groceries every Thursday.

Abilene was just coming in when Clark reached their door, “Oh, hello Clark,” she greeted, “Everything okay?”

“Hi Abilene,” Clark said, “Everything’s fine, but is Judy in? I need to talk to her about something.”

“She’s coming up in a minute. Something wrong with the apartment?” Abilene asked.

“No, it’s fine,” Clark said, “Well, actually, I was wondering if you had an apartment up for rent, one with two bedrooms?”

“Upsizing? Why?” Abilene asked, “Did you finally talk to that lady friend of yours?” She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively.

Clark laughed, “No no, nothing like that,” he said, “It’s more like I found out there’s a ten year old I didn’t know about until two weeks ago.”

“Oh shit biscuits,” Abilene said, “That’s a hell of a thing to find out. Is that where you’ve been for the last two weeks?”

Clark nodded, “Yeah, I took him out to my parent’s place, just to get some stuff figured out,” he said, “But I’m back now and the practical things need to be taken care of.”

“Right,” Abilene said, “I know we’ve got a guy moving out on the ninth floor, Greg Matthews, and his place has two bedrooms, though he was using one as an office space. It’s a bit pricier than what you're paying now though. You sure you’re going to be able to afford it and a kid?”

“I’ll manage,” Clark said, “I just really need a place that has an extra bedroom for Conner.”

“Conner huh?” Abilene asked, “What happened to his Mama?”

“He’s been in foster care,” Clark said, remembering Bruce’s advice, “I’m still working out the details.”

Abilene grimaced, “Yikes. Well, we’ll help in any way we can.”

“What are we helping with now?” Judy asked, coming up the stairs, “Hi Clark.”

“Clark’s got a ten year old kid now and he needs an apartment with an extra bedroom,” Abilene said, “I told him about Mr. Matthews moving out.”

“Oh dang,” Judy said, “That must have been rough.”

“It . . . it was a lot of things,” Clark said, hoping that was neutral enough, “Anyway, I really do need a new place that’s bigger, and I really like this building. If you’d be willing, I’d love to take the place that’s opening up.”

“Thank you,” Judy said, then she stopped to think, “I’ve got a few people who are interested, but they haven’t completed the credit check yet. You’re one of my best tenants, so of course I’d love to keep you. It’s the middle of the lease year, but I can do a lease transfer so we can avoid the cancellation fee. I can’t give it to you at the same rent as you have now, but I can go a little cheaper than I was planning.”

Clark let out a sigh of relief, “That helps so much Judy, thank you. I can pay the full rent if you want.”

Judy waved her hand dismissively, “Don’t worry about that for now. We’ll talk more about it when the lease renews,” she said, “It won’t be ready for at least a week though, maybe two or three, depending on how much cleaning and repair needs to be done. It also probably needs a new coat of paint.”

“That’s alright,” Clark said, “I’d be happy to help with the repairs and painting if I can.”

Judy smiled at him, “Sounds like a plan,” she said. She stuck out her hand for him to shake, “I believe we have an agreement Mr. Kent.”

Clark smiled, “I believe we do, Mrs. Atchison,” he said, shaking her hand.

Judy gave his hand a squeeze and then let go, “I’ll get the paperwork printed and come see you as soon as I can.”

“Thank you Judy, this is really helpful,” Clark said, “You know you can call on me whenever to help out around the place. I’m no stranger to heavy lifting.”

Judy laughed, “I’ll keep that in mind. We’ll talk later and go over the details. Have a nice day Clark.”

“You too, thank you,” Clark said, turning and heading back up the stairs. He was a little astounded that it went so well. Now he just had to figure out what to do with Conner during the day while he was at work.

A regular babysitter was out; he couldn’t risk Conner’s powers manifesting suddenly and exposing him and Clark, or potentially hurting someone. He couldn’t really take Conner to work with him, at least not more than once or twice a month, since the daycare at the Planet only catered to kids five and under. He might be able to get away with having Conner sit at his desk with him for a little while, but it would raise too many questions after a while. He couldn’t just leave Conner at home unsupervised, because while a normal ten year old might have been able to look after himself for an hour or two, Conner certainly couldn’t be alone for the entire work day.

Clark was still puzzling over it when he reached his apartment. Conner had figured out the LEGO and was in the process of creating a small city in the middle of the living room. Clark smiled and sat down on the couch, ready to watch some TV until it was time to order dinner.

The last channel that had been on was the news, so Clark wasn't too surprised to turn it on and see the middle of a battle going on in Central City between Captain Boomerang and Flash. Conner perked up as the story unfolded, turning back to Clark.

“Are you going to help?” he asked, eyes bright with excitement.

“No, I don't think so,” Clark said, “Flash is pretty good about handling this kind of thing himself.”

Conner frowned and looked back at the screen, “Are you sure? You're Superman, you could stop it in a minute.”

“I could, but I don't think Flash would like me stepping into his fight without asking,” Clark explained. It wasn't only Batman who could get a little territorial (though he was certainly the worst for it).

Conner huffed, looking a bit put out, “Can you check?” he asked.

Clark realized this went a little deeper than Conner just wanting to see Superman in action, “Alright, I’ll text him,” he said. He pulled out his phone and sent a quick text to Barry.

_ Conner wants to know if you need help with Capt. Boomerang _ , he sent. On the news, Flash hardly stopped before Clark’s phone chimed with an answer.

_ conner???????? _

_ *Superboy _ , Clark clarified.

On screen, Flash dodged a few boomerangs heading his way. If Clark looked closely, he could just see Barry’s phone out for a few seconds. Barry was the kind of person that always replied to texts right away unless he was really busy. Captain Boomerang didn't count as ‘busy’ to Flash.

_ Cute!!! _ Barry sent, along with a string of hearts and smiley face emojis, followed by,  _ na im god tell kiddo i say hi gtg ttyl _ .

Clark rolled his eyes,  _ I will. Learn to type, _ he sent. Barry sent back another group of emojis, mostly consisting of frowny faces and a smiling poop.

“He says he’s fine Conner,” Clark said, “Maybe some other time.”

Conner huffed and went back to creating his miniature city. On the TV, Flash finished up the fight and spent a minute chatting with the CCPD, the news crew, and random bystanders, and then took out his phone before disappearing from the cameras. Clark’s phone chimed with another text message.

_ whos the kid? _ Barry texted, then a half second later * _ hows? _

_ He’s fine. Getting used to being a kid, but fine. _ Clark texted.

_ Good :))))) u shuld bring him to the tower or smth _ , Berry sent,  _ itd be col to see him. _

Clark took a minute to decipher Barry’s text,  _ Is that allowed? I don’t think they’d give me permission to bring a 10 year old onto the WatchTower when not even Robin or Kid Flash are allowed. _

_ Dont b lame :((((( _ , Barry texted,  _ tho we shold figr out smth fr all the kids, thry shoudl ttly met smtim _

_ Barry, slow down and text like an adult _ , Clark wrote,  _ But you’ve given me an idea. You think either Kid Flash or Robin could babysit Conner? _

_ :PPP nvr _ , _ & ya mbye, y????? _

_ Conner can’t have a normal babysitter because of his powers, and he’s not ready for school just yet _ , Clark explained,  _ But I can’t take anymore time off of work to look after him. _

_ tru, _ Barry wrote,  _ i cn ask KF, but idk hes gt school nad stuff. mayeb ask Aqualad? he donstn go to school. Or mattion manhunters neice cam to earth appparentl, maybe ask her? _

Clark took nearly a minute trying to figure out what the hell Barry was talking about,  _ I will, thanks. Also you text like a teenager. _

_ ho many tenns do yu evne kno? _ Barry shot back.

Clark rolled his eyes and put down his phone. Barry always had to have the last word when it came to texting, and Clark didn’t think he had the energy to decipher his word-vomit. Superspeed meant that Barry’s phone had a hard time keeping up with his fast fingers, on top of Barry feeling the need to use ‘text speak’ (Clark didn't want to default on blaming Hal for it like a certain Bat did, but honestly Green Lantern worse than Flash was when it came to trying to be ‘hip’).

Clark channel surfed for a while, finding that nothing much was on. He switched it off and wondered what he should do until dinner. On a normal night, he’d patrol the city, but he didn’t want to leave Conner alone. The boy was happily playing with the LEGO on the floor, leaving no stray pieces on the floor to be stepped on. He finished his last tower and went back to the box of toys, digging out a stuffed octopus plushie, some little plastic people, and a generic superhero toy (Bruce had to have gotten at least a smile out of that). Conner placed the little plastic people throughout the buildings, the octopus on top of the tallest tower, and kept the little superhero in hand.

“What are you playing?” Clark asked, though he could guess.

Conner looked up, “Superman fights a giant octopus,” he said.

Clark laughed, “Sounds familiar,” he said. He watched Conner finish setting up, “Mind if I play?”

Conner looked up, surprised, “You want to play with me?” he asked.

Clark felt a twinge of guilt. He hadn’t played with Conner that much over the last two weeks, since Jonathan and Martha had always been so eager to play with him. So Clark had left the playing them, though he probably shouldn’t have.

“Yeah, I’d love to play,” Clark said, sliding off the couch and onto the floor, “Is that okay?”

Conner nodded vigorously. He looked down at the little superhero toy, seeming to debate in his head, then held it out for Clark to take, “You’re Superman in real life, so you should play him in the game.”

Clark looked down at the offered toy. He glanced back up at Conner and smiled, “That’s okay,” he said, then reached for the octopus, “I always get to be Superman. I’ll be the monster, and you can be Superman.”

Conner broke out into a huge, bright smile, “Okay!” he said excitedly, “So you have to start attacking the buildings, and then I come in to save everyone!”

They ended up playing for a long time, only taking a break when Clark had to order food. Once they’d eaten, they restarted the game, this time bringing out some alien toys for ‘Superman’ to defeat. Conner absolutely had a blast, getting very into playing Superman, and it was only Clark insistence that bedtime was at nine that got him to stop playing. Conner went off to wash and Clark cleaned up the mess they’d made. Honestly Clark couldn’t remember the last time he’d had this much fun on a night spent inside. He’d always loved the outdoors, even in the city, and being cooped up inside was not his idea of a good time. Playing with Conner was an entirely different experience, one that Clark might be able to get used to.

Once Conner was washed and changed into his pyjamas, he headed for the couch, arranging the pillows the same way he had on his first night, this time taking the blanket Martha had given him. Clark felt a pang of something indistinct, seeing Conner get ready to sleep on the couch, like he was a temporary thing.

“Come on, let’s go to the bed,” Clark said, gesturing to the bedroom, “It’s more comfortable.”

Conner tilted his head, “But don't you sleep there?” he asked.

Clark smiled, “It’s alright,” he said, “I’ll figure something else out.”

Conner didn't seem to buy it, but he got down off the couch and went to the bedroom, hopping up onto it. Clark pulled the covers around him and sat on the bed next to him so they could have their nightly talk. Within a half and hour, Conner was nodding off.

“Get some sleep,” Clark said, pulling the covers up and tucking Conner in, “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Night,” Conner breathed, then dropped off to sleep. Clark felt a fond smile take over his face, and he reached out to pet Conner’s hair once.

He’d have liked to stay, but Metropolis did still need him. Clark would be a little tired for tomorrow, but he could hold up much longer than a human could, so he could handle it. As quickly and as quietly as he could, Clark donned his costume and went to the window. With one last glance back at the sleeping child in his bed, Superman took off into the night sky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kindly lesbian landladies should be a new trope that everyone does. Also writing Barry's texting was so much fun. I basically typed as fast as I could and left all the mistakes I made. I think it should be pretty obvious what he's saying, but if you need translations, let me know in the comments.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had this finished late last night, but I had to get to work, so I couldn't post it. Also, working nightshift can lead to some weird ass dreams. I dreamed I was in a business class for some reason (I take History and Literature) and the textbook was $5000. Also sleep sweating is the worst because you wake up feeling gross.

It was a bit of a boring night in Metropolis, with only a few incidents that needed Superman’s attention. A car chase down 5th, a domestic abuse incident that nearly turned fatal with the presence of a gun, and a bunch of engineering undergrads testing out their ‘killer’ robot in a public park.

As Superman was wrapping thing up in the park with the police, a familiar pair of heels clicked their way into his ears. Superman turned and gave a polite smile to the woman marching towards him determinedly.

“Hello Ms. Lane,” he greeted, “You’re out late.”

“Heard you were back in town, so I figured I’d come and see you,” Lois said, promptly pulling out her recorder, “Can you tell me what caused you to disappear for the last two weeks? No one has seen you in the city and there haven’t been any reports of you across the globe.”

Superman just barely didn’t panic, “There was a bit of an incident in space,” he lied smoothly, feeling horribly guilty, “Nothing too worrisome, but they wanted me along just in case.”

Lois was an amazing woman and an even better reporter, and her bullshit detector was par none, “Is that so?” she asked, eyes full of mirth, “Can you share any details?”

“I’m afraid not Ms. Lane,” Superman said, “If you’ll excuse me, I need to check on something.”

“And what would that be, Superman!?” Lois called out even as he flew away. He felt bad for blowing her off—especially since recently he’d started to become closer to her both as Superman and as Clark Kent—but he also didn't want to go into too much detail about Conner just yet.

Speaking of Conner, Superman swung by his apartment, using his X-Ray vision to check in from afar. Conner was sleeping soundly, still tucked in and snuggled up with Wolf. Superman did a quick sweep of the building while he was at it and took off again into the night.

The sun was starting to rise just when Superman returned to his apartment. He quietly got out of his uniform and went about his morning routine. He spotted a sheaf of papers that must have been slid under his door and went to pick them up. It was all of the paperwork Bruce had promised, with little sticky-note arrows pointing out where he should sign. It seemed mostly straightforward, but he started reading through it anyway.

Clark was a third the way through the sheaf and just putting coffee on when Conner finally woke up.

“Morning. Did you sleep okay?” Clark asked, watching the boy shuffle into the kitchen.

“Yeah, I was fine,” Conner said, hopping up to sit at the table, “What about you?”

“I was fine,” Clark said, “Don’t worry about it too much.”

Conner frowned, obviously knowing that Clark was dodging him, but he rarely questioned or disobeyed Clark in any way. Clark wasn’t sure if he should discourage that or not.

Putting it out of his mind for now, Clark looked in the fridge for something to serve for breakfast. There wasn't much, he had to go get groceries at some point, but there were the pies Martha had sent home with them.

“I thought pie was for dessert?” Conner asked as Clark set the plate in front of him, along with a glass of milk.

“It is, usually,” Clark said, “But I haven’t gotten groceries yet, so this will be okay. It’s kind of like pancakes right? Fruit and syrup and pastry.”

Conner nodded and tucked into his breakfast, eating slowly. Clark noticed that he seemed to like to take his time with food, enjoying each bite. Smiling, Clark went back to reading through the sheaf.

Despite Bruce’s warning against too many details, he sure had included a lot in constructing Conner’s backstory. Born in Honolulu ten years ago to a woman Clark had ‘met’ on vacation (which actually matched up with a real vacation he’d taken around the time, though he had no idea how Bruce would know that), but the mother had died when Conner was two, and since there were no other relatives, he’d been placed in foster care. From there the ‘records’ got a little more vague, only showing that Conner was moved around a lot for the next few years. Then, a few weeks ago, an ‘incident’ that left Conner in the hospital and taken into police custody after a ‘foster parent’ hit him on the head hard enough to give him amnesia. While in the hospital recovering, the proper birth certificate had been pulled up, showing Clark’s name on it. A little bit of investigation and Clark was contacted and the rest was more or less in line with the last two weeks. Clark had to hand it to Bruce, he never half-assed anything.

Clark signed where he needed to, paying attention to the clock for when he had to leave for work. He was going to have to bring Conner with him for this first day, just until he could get a hold of one of the other Leaguers who might be able to look after him during the day until school started in September.

The two of them finished up their breakfasts, “Alright, can you go get washed and dressed? We have to go soon.”

“Where are we going?” Conner asked, handing his plate to Clark to be washed.

“We’re going to my work,” Clark said.

Conner perked up, “As Superman?” he asked.

“No, at the Daily Planet,” Clark said, “Remember? We talked about how Clark Kent and Superman are different?”

Conner huffed and pouted, “Yeah, we did,” he said, “But being Superman is better.”

Clark chuckled, “I don’t know about that,” he said, “Being Clark can be a lot more fun.”

“But you don't get to fly or save people!” Conner insisted, “Or fight giant monsters! You just do normal boring people stuff.”

Clark smiled and patted Conner’s head, “Trust me, the normal boring people stuff is a lot better. You’ll understand someday.”

“That’s a phrase for when an adult doesn’t want to explain something,” Conner mumbled, but he got up to go get washed up and dressed.

Clark sighed and got his things together. Conner wasn't the type to drag his feet when it came to getting ready in the morning, which was nice. He was always excited to start the day. It was so interesting to see him experience new things for the first time. On the farm, there had been a day where Conner had spent hours watching Martha knit, entranced by the way the needles moved and created something from one little string.

“Ready?” Clark asked as they stood at the door, his briefcase in hand, the sheaf of papers tucked into it. He’d need to use the fax machine at work.

Conner squeezed Wolf against him, nodding. Clark considered getting him to leave it at home, but he didn't think that would go over well. Besides, today would probably be stressful for Conner, and having Wolf along might help him.

Getting to work ended up taking a lot longer than Clark anticipated, with Conner constantly stopping and looking around. He’d had never taken Conner out into the city, Clark remembered belatedly. He’d been calm out at the farm, but the farm was much quieter and much less busy. The city around them shrieked and groaned, people rushing around, absorbed in their own worlds and only regarding Clark and Conner long enough to not run into them. Smells of car exhaust, street food, and human bodies all mixed together in a sickening swirl, which was hard even for Clark to ignore, though he’d become used to it. There were so many things going on at once, it was hard to know where to look, or even if you should look. And there were so many  _ people _ , everywhere, walking and running and talking and shouting.

Clark remembered coming to the city for the first time, how overwhelming it had seemed at first. He’d been a young man then, striding out into the world for the first time. He couldn't imagine what it must be like for Conner, who had never seen the world before, whose only exposure to the world had been Clark’s tiny apartment and the wide, quiet spaces of the farm.

He seemed to be taking it all in well, though he walked slowly, clinging to Clark’s hand tightly. Conner would stop a little when a particularly loud sound went off, or to stare at something. Clark wished he would hurry, because he was going to be late, but he didn't want to rush Conner through everything and make it worse.

Clark had originally planned to take the train to work, but when Conner stopped for the fifth time to look at something, Clark stepped to the curb and hailed a taxi. It would be a little expensive, but he didn’t think Conner would be able to handle a crowded train.

Once they were inside the car, Conner scooted right into Clark’s side, burying his face into Wolf’s fur, “I like flying a lot better. My ears hurt.”

Clark sighed and wrapped an arm around Conner, “It’s alright,” he said, “You’ll get used to it.”

“Can we go back to the farm?” Conner asked, looking up at Clark.

“Maybe soon,” Clark said, not wanting to promise anything.

The cab ride was thankfully short, since they somehow managed to miss most of the rushour clogging. Clark paid the driver and got out, tugging Conner along with him. Conner stared up at the huge building, swaying back to try and see the top of the building. Clark smiled and took his hand, leading him inside.

The inside of the building was a lot quieter than outside in the city, and Conner calmed down almost immediately. Clark, on the other hands, tensed a little when he thought about what was about to come next. He mentally prepared for a very unproductive day, and tried not to think of all the questions he would be getting left and right from his coworkers. It wouldn't matter too much, since Perry had him on fluff duty anyway, but he could already feel the migraine starting.

The floor Clark worked on was already busy by the time he got there. Several people stopped and stared as they arrived, watching Conner with curiosity. Conner shrank behind Clark, trying to shield himself as much as possible from everyone. Clark regretted not warning him about all the people he would see today, only guessing how stressful it must be.

“Clark!” A familiar voice called out to him. Jimmy poked his head overtop of a cubicle, grinning brightly at Clark, “How was the two weeks off?”

“It was fine,” Clark said, “I went up to see my parents.”

“Yeah, I heard you had some kind of family emergency. Everything okay on the farm?” Jimmy asked.

Jimmy was a dear friend and Clark loved him like a brother, but the man could be incredibly unobservant sometimes, which was an odd trait for a photographer to have, “Actually, the family emergency was a little . . . different,” Clark said, stepping aside a little so Jimmy could get a better look at Conner.

Jimmy looked down, eyes bugging out of his head when he caught sight of Conner, who was looking back up at Jimmy with wide eyes that were unmistakably the same bright blue as Clark’s, “Oh geez,” he said, “That’s . . . yeah, that would count as an emergency.”

Clark smiled, “It was a bit of a surprise, let me tell you,” he said.

Jimmy came around the other side of the cubicle and squatted down so he was Conner’s height, “Hey there kiddo, I’m Jimmy Olsen,” he said, holding out his hand, “What’s your name?”

Conner glanced down at Jimmy’s hand, then up at Clark. Clark smiled encouragingly and Conner took Jimmy’s hand, “My name is Conner,” he said shyly.

Jimmy smiled brightly, “Nice to meet you Conner,” he said, shaking Conner’s hand gently, “You can just go ahead and call me Uncle Jimmy.”

Conner tilted his head in confusion, then looked back up at Clark, “I thought you said you didn't have a brother?”

Jimmy blinked, then burst out laughing. Clark resisted the urge to push him over, “I don't have a brother, but Jimmy is a very good friend of mine,” he explained to Conner, “So I guess you could say I consider him like a brother.”

Conner puzzled over that for a minute, “So I should consider him like my uncle?” he asked.

“If you want,” Clark said, “It’s up to you Conner. You can just call him Mr. Olson or Jimmy if you prefer.”

Jimmy huffed, “Aw Clark, don’t be—” he cut himself off when Clark gave him a pointed look, “Er, right, yeah, any of those works, kiddo.”

Conner looked back at Jimmy, “Just ‘Jimmy’ is okay?” he asked.

“That’s just fine Conner,” Clark said before Jimmy could make a well-intentioned comment, “Perry’s in his office, right?”

“When is he not?” Jimmy said, “You need me to watch Conner while you talk to him?”

“No, that’s alright,” Clark said, “I’ll need to explain a few things to Perry, and having Conner along might get the point across better.”

“Ah, gotcha,” Jimmy said, winking and making a finger gun, “I’ll see you in the breakroom if you survive. Later Clark!” he called as he moved away.

Clark rolled his eyes and continued on to Perry’s office, dreading the coming conversation. Hopefully Perry would refrain from yelling in front of Conner.

“Smallville,” Perry greeted, “How was the family emergency?”

Clark glanced down at Conner, “It was . . . fine,” he said.

Perry stared down at Conner, almost disbelieving, “Fucking Christ.”

“Swear jar,” Conner said automatically, the habit having already been instilled in him at the Kent farm.

Perry narrowed his eyes while Clark stifled laughter, “Why is he here?” Perry asked, “Shouldn’t he be in school?”

“He’s not enrolled,” Clark said, “It’s too late in the year for him to really go anywhere—” Clark remembered the sheaf, “Plus, the doctor said it that putting him in school might be too much for him right now, with everything else.”

“Doctor?” Perry asked, raising an eyebrow. He glanced back down at Conner again and sighed, “And you couldn't find a sitter?”

“Not one who’s specialized enough to cater to his needs,” Clark answered truthfully. The best disguise was one where other people filled in the blanks for you.

Perry sighed and ran a hand over his head, “Shit,” he swore.

“Swear jar,” Conner said again. This time Clark did laugh.

“Can it, Smallville,” Perry growled, “He can’t go to the daycare?”

“He’s ten,” Clark said, “Way too old for daycare.”

Perry grumbled and paced behind his desk, “So he’s just going to sit at your desk the whole day? Being a giant distraction?”

Clark huffed, “You put me on fluff duty, remember? Hungover interns who’ve eaten nothing but breakroom coffee and cheezits can write passable fluff. I’m pretty sure a ten year old isn’t going to be that much of a hinderance.”

Perry glared, clearly on the fence, but starting to lean, “C’mon, Perry,” Clark said, “If Angela from accounting can get her work done while breastfeeding, I think I can get my work done while Conner sits quietly and reads.”

“And he’s just going to sit quietly and read the whole day?” Perry asked incredulously.

“I brought some colouring books too,” Conner piped up.

Perry let out a long sigh, “Fine, but don’t make this a habit, Smallville. Find that kid a sitter or put him in school.”

“Thank you Perry,” Clark said, “I’m working on it.”

“You better be,” Perry grumbled, “Now get out.”

Clark took Conner back to his desk. He’d worked his way up the ranks of the Daily Planet, but he still only had a cubicle. A corner cubicle, but still. He pilfered a folding chair from the break room and set Conner up in a corner of his table space.

“You gonna be okay for the whole day?” Clark asked.

“I’ll be fine,” Conner said, setting out a few books that he’d brought. He’d also brought a little portable game console with a few games. Hopefully it would be enough to keep him occupied for the day.

The first part of the day went about the same as Clark expected to. He got some work done, but mostly he fended off questions about Conner and his origin. Thankfully, it was busier than he’d anticipated and he didn't have to talk to as many people as he thought he would. Conner sat quietly for the most part, reading and playing his game, while Clark wrote about the Metropolis 12th precinct fire department’s new mascot cat ‘Ziggy’. He also managed to sneak off to the copy room to fax Bruce the finished paperwork for Conner. He also took a minute to message a few members of the Justice League who might be available, or know someone available, to look after Conner during the regular work day.

“Hey buddy,” Jimmy said, coming by Clark’s desk close to lunch time, “Ready to blow your brains out yet, fluff boy?”

Clark groaned, “No amount of coffee in the world is going to be able to get me another five hundred words on this thing. I could write this whole thing in three sentences. ‘The Metropolis Fire Department’s 12th precinct has a new mascot. It is a cat named Ziggy. Ziggy is adorable and fluffy because he is a cat.’ It’s mind numbing.”

Jimmy snorted, “You sound like you need a break,” he said, “How about we have lunch up on the roof? So kiddo can run around and burn off some steam?”

Clark glanced down at Conner, who was still sitting quietly, now colouring in one of the activity books. Clark had noticed that he was starting to get antsy and shifting in his seat, “Yeah, that’s probably a good idea.”

“Great!” Jimmy said, grinning broadly, “I’ll go grab my lunch and meet you at the elevator.”

“Sounds good,” Clark said, “Conner, you’ve got your lunch?”

“Yeah,” Conner said, reaching into his backpack and bringing out the lunchbox he’d packed (with little cartoon depictions of the Justice League on it, because despite what some people thought, Bruce did have a sense of humor).

“Alright then,” Clark said, saving his progress on his computer and getting up to stretch, “Have you been doing okay? You’ve been pretty quiet.”

“I’m okay,” Conner said dispassionately. Clark hoped he could find a sitter soon. It wasn’t very stimulating to sit at a desk for hours on end for an adult, and it must have been torture for a child.

Clark collected his lunch and made his way to the elevator, but Conner stopped about halfway there, “I need to use the bathroom,” he said.

“Okay, you know where it is?” Clark asked, receiving a nod, “Go on, I’ll wait by the elevator for you.”

Conner nodded and walked off to the bathroom, leaving his lunchbox with Clark. He felt a little silly toting around a child’s lunchbox, but he figured this was something he was just going to have to get used to.

Clark sighed and waited by the elevator, keeping his eye on the corridor leading to the bathrooms. He checked his phone for messages, mildly surprised that he had none from any members of the League. At least one of them would have replied by now. Was there something going on that he didn't know about?

“Hey Kent.” Clark jolted as a voice sounded beside him. Lois laughed, “Easy there, big guy, just me.”

“Lois, sorry, I didn't hear you sneak up,” Clark said, quickly stowing his phone.

Lois smiled up at him, “I assumed that when you jumped a mile high. Something on your mind?”

“You could say that,” Clark said, glancing towards the corridor again.

“What’s with the lunchbox?” Lois asked, reaching out to tap the painted metal, “Not usually your style.”

“Oh, this is—” Clark stalled on what to say. It was one thing to tell his friends and coworkers that he was now the guardian of his ten year old clone who he was passing off as his son born of a whirlwind love affair in Hawai’i ten years ago, but telling the woman he had feelings for was a little bit different.

Clark was saved from the awkwardness of explaining by the timely arrival of Jimmy, “Hey Clark, where’s Conner?”

“Who’s Conner?” Lois asked, raising an eyebrow.

Because the universe had decided to pick on Clark specifically today, this was the exact moment when Conner reappeared. He shuffled up to Clark’s side and stared up at Lois with those big, bright blue eyes.

Lois stared right back down at Conner. Clark could see the wheels turn in her head. He coughed, “Lois, this is Conner,” he said.

“You . . . have a son?” Lois asked, still not taking her eyes off of Conner.

Clark had so far avoided using that term as much as he could. It still sat uneasily with him, and he had difficulty admitting it even to himself that Conner was essentially, legally now that the papers were filed, his son. He was still trying to process his feelings towards Conner, though they had become mostly positive over the last two weeks.

Thankfully, Jimmy unwittingly came to his rescue, “C’mon Lois, look at the kid. He’s obviously Clark’s.”

“Right,” Lois said, “I . . . have to go,” she said, suddenly turning and walking off at a quick pace. Clark made an aborted move towards her, but didn't follow. What would he even say?

“What’s up with her?” Jimmy asked, as oblivious as ever.

Conner looked up at Clark, “Did she leave because of me?” he asked.

Clark sighed, “No, it’s not your fault Conner,” he said, “Let’s go up and have some lunch.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to hopefully add more Lois in the next chapter, but we'll see how it goes. Also, I'm not very familiar with Jimmy, so this is just sort of my version of him from what I've seen from the snippets of other media. I remember he was in BvS for like 2 seconds before he was fucking murdered.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this one's a little shorter than the others, but I couldn't think of a way to extend it without being gratuitous. Mostly this was just me playing around with other people's reactions to Conner, specifically Jimmy and Lois. I hope I did okay with their characterizations.

Technically, employees weren't allowed on the roof unless they had clearance or were part of the maintenance staff. This rule was generally ignored by everyone, though most people were polite enough to leave if the maintenance staff were working on the roof. Clark enjoyed coming up to the roof for his breaks, just to feel the wind on his face. It was the closest he got to flying that wasn't actually flying.

The roof also had a large enough space for a ten year old child to run amok for a while, which Clark was grateful for at the moment. He hadn't realized how much pent up energy Conner had until he was watching him run around the roof space, tossing Wolf around in one of his strange games. Clark was starting to think it was a variation of ‘Superman fights a monster and saves the day’ or something like that. Conner was oddly silent when he played alone, so it was hard to tell what he was doing.

“So, you’re a dad now, huh?” Jimmy said contemplatively, “That must have come as a shock.”

“You have no idea,” Clark said, “I don't think I quite believe it even after two weeks.”

Jimmy blew out a breath, “I can imagine. I had a pregnancy scare with my high school girlfriend once. I felt like I was having a constant heart attack for a week.”

Clark tipped his head, “Not exactly the same, but yeah, it's been pretty scary.”

Jimmy hummed. They ate in silence for a minute, watching Conner run around, “Hey,” Jimmy said, sounding concerned all of a sudden, “Is Conner . . . okay?”

“What do you mean?” Clark asked, starting to feel a little defensive.

“I mean he’s—” Jimmy searched for the right words, “Isn't he a little old to be carting around stuffed animals? You said he was ten, right?”

Clark huffed, “It’s the first toy he's ever had in his life, it helps keep him calm.”

Jimmy’s eyebrows almost disappeared into his ginger hair, “The first toy he’s ever had in his  _ life _ ? Where the heck was he living, Antarctica?”

“Honolulu actually, and he’s been in foster care since he was two,” Clark said, recalling the sheaf with Conner’s ‘back story’.

“Foster care?” Jimmy asked, “Do they not allow foster kids to have toys in Hawai’i?”

Clark took a bite of his lunch, thinking of what to say, “If he did, he doesn't remember that well,” he said finally, “There was an accident.”

Jimmy’s face fell in sympathy, “Oh no, what kind of accident?”

“I don't know the details,” Clark said, “But he was hit on the head pretty hard. He doesn't really remember that much from growing up, at least nothing has come back to him yet. The doctor said he might be repressing traumatic memories.”

Clark felt a little guilty for how stricken Jimmy looked, “Poor little guy,” he said, looking over to where Conner was playing, “So he’s got brain damage?”

“No, just amnesia,” Clark said, “He’ll grow up completely normal. The doctor said it might even be a good thing, like a clean slate for him to start over with.”

Jimmy whistled, “I don't even want to think of what the little guy went through. Who even does that to a kid?”

“Terrible people,” Clark said, “So, don't ask him about his past too much, it’ll just confuse him. Also, try not to tell him to do things outright. Try to give him a choice.”

“Is that what that was about?” Jimmy asked, “When you said he could call me Mr. Olsen if he wanted?”

Clark nodded, “He’s got amnesia, but there are still some leftover habits that I’m trying to get rid of. I want him to know that he’s got a choice when it comes to his actions, that I'm not just ordering him to do something and he'll be punished if he doesn't do it.”

“Christ on a cracker,” Jimmy said, running a hand through his curly hair, “Yeah, I'll keep that in mind.” He laid a hand on Clark’s forearm, “If you ever need help, you can always give me a call. I’d be happy to help in any way I can.”

Clark smiled, “Thanks Jimmy, that really means a lot.”

Jimmy smiled back, freckles bunching up on his cheeks. He finished up his lunch and watched Conner play while Clark finished his own lunch. After a minute or two, he stood up and walked over to where Conner was apparently wearing Wolf as a hat.

“Watcha playing?” Jimmy asked.

Conner pulled Wolf off of his head and clutched him to his body tightly, “Superman,” he said quietly, glancing over to Clark, like he wasn't sure he should be saying that.

Jimmy just smiled, “Sounds fun. Mind if I play?”

Conner looked to Clark again, uncertain. Clark gave him a nod and he brightened and turned back to Jimmy, “Sure! Do you want to be Superman or the monster?”

Jimmy pretended to think about it for a minute, “I think I’ll be . . .” He grinned and put his hands out like claws, “The monster!”

Conner yelped in delight and took off, Jimmy chasing him. Clark laughed and watched the two of them run around; he’d noticed that Jimmy was good with kids before, and always loved to play with them. He was a bit of a child at heart, and children always warmed up to him quickly. Clark thought he might make a good dad one day, if he ever got the chance.

After watching them for a while, Clark checked his watch and grimaced, “Break’s almost over,” he called, “We should head back inside.”

“Aaawww c’mon Clark, five more minutes,” Jimmy whined, “We’re having fun.”

Clark chuckled and shook his head, “Fine, but just five,” he said.

“Yes.” Jimmy fist pumped, then resumed his chase of Conner. Aware of the time constraint, Jimmy finally let himself be ‘defeated’ by Conner, falling to the ground with a dramatic gasp and ‘dying’.

“Hey,” Conner protested, “Superman doesn’t kill his opponents, not even monsters. Stop being dead.”

Jimmy laughed and sat up, “You’re right, my bad,” he said, “You know he’s a good friend of mine?”

Conner tilted his head, “Who?”

“Superman,” Jimmy said, “He even gave me this little watch right here, see?” He extended his wrist to show off the signal watch, “If I press this little button here, it emits a high frequency noise that he can hear and he comes to find me. I mostly use it when I’m in trouble.”

Conner glanced back at Clark, then back to Jimmy, “That’s really nice of him,” he said.

Jimmy grinned, “You want to press it and see if he shows up? I’m sure he’d love to meet you.”

“I think we should probably get back inside,” Clark said before the situation could get out of hand, “Perry is going to yell at us if we stay out here for too much longer.”

“You’re probably right,” Jimmy sighed, “Maybe some other time.”

“Okay,” Conner said neutrally. Clark had talked to him extensively about the importance of maintaining the secret identity, but this was the first time he’d ever been confronted by it.

The three of them went back inside, and Clark and Conner said goodbye to Jimmy as they returned to Clark’s desk, “You did very well Conner,” Clark praised.

“So he has no idea that you're Superman?” Conner asked. Clark shook his head and Conner wrinkled his nose, “He must not be very smart.”

“ _ Conner _ ,” Clark admonished, “Jimmy is plenty smart. But the secret identity thing is important, so I make sure he doesn’t know.”

Clark didn't know where Conner learned to roll his eyes, but he hoped he’d be able to find out so he could give them a piece of his mind. They sat back down at Clark’s desk and resumed their activities, a little more relaxed after sitting out in the sun for a while. Which reminded Clark that he should take Conner to the Fortress of Solitude at some point to get a more in depth look at his physiology. Did Conner need to absorb yellow star radiation like Clark did? Did kryptonite and red star radiation affect him the same way they did Clark? Would he ever get powers other than invulnerability?

These questions swirled around Clark’s head until he realized he’d finally finished the fluff piece. Sitting back and stretching, he mulled over what to do next. He clicked through some of his ongoing projects and came across a Superman exposé he was collaborating on with Lois. It was mostly her trying to get as much information on Superman as she could and Clark trying to push her away from certain leads and giving her the runaround without making it obvious that that’s what he was doing. He always felt a little bad about steering her wrong, but if anyone could figure out who he really was, it was Lois Lane.

Clark turned to Conner, “You think you’ll be okay here for a few minutes? I have to go talk to someone.”

“I’ll be okay,” Conner said, looking up from his book, “Harry just got sorted into Gryffindor.”

Clark smiled, “That’s great,” he said, “I’ll be just a few minutes. Please don't wander off, okay?”

Conner nodded and returned to his book, ignoring the world around him. Clark got up and weaved through the corridors of cubicles to get to Lois’s office. He could hear her inside, shuffling around and clicking away at her computer. He took a deep breath and knocked on her door, hoping she wasn’t too busy (though she always seemed to have time for anything Superman related).

“Come in!” Lois called, sounding a little distracted. Clark opened the door and smiled fondly at the sight; Lois was in the middle of organized chaos, papers spread around her and stacks of files threatening to topple over. She’d put her hair up since he’d seen her before lunch, and subsequently stuck several pens and pencils into the lopsided bun. Clark guessed that she kept putting them there and then forgetting where she’d left them.

Lois hadn’t looked up when he came in, “What do you—” she trailed off when she noticed it was him, “—need?”

Clark was confused by her unusual reaction to him, “I was just coming in to check on how the Superman exposé is going on your end. I know I’m not going to be much help on it for the next two weeks, but I’m here if you need anything.”

“I’m fine, don't worry about it,” she said curtly, putting her head back down and concentrating on her work. Clark felt like he was being dismissed.

“Is there something wrong, Lois?” he asked, stepping further into her office, avoiding the tall stack of boxes of case files on his right.

“No,” Lois said, tone sharply, “I’m very busy.”

“You’re always busy,” Clark said. He watched her a moment, but she refused to look him in the eye, “Did I do something to upset you?”

“Clark, please, I’m trying to work,” Lois said instead of answering.

“I’ve been back for less than a day and you seemed fine until lunch,” Clark said, “What’s this about? I know you seemed a little shocked about Conner—” he had a sudden realization, “This is about Conner?”

Lois sighed, “I was a little . . . shocked I guess. I just didn’t think you were that kind of person.”

Clark felt a small spark of anger starting to build, “What’s that supposed to mean? The kind of person that could have kids?”

“No, not that,” Lois said, running a hand through her hair, forgetting that it was up and just making a bigger mess of it, “The kind of guy that would get a girl pregnant and then run out. It . . . I thought you were a better guy than that.”

“I didn’t even know about Conner until two weeks ago,” Clark said, “There was nothing I could have done.”

Lois groaned and flicked her pen down hard enough for it to bounce off her desk and go flipping through the air, landing somewhere in the chaos, “Look, this just wasn't something I was expecting from you. You always seemed like such a responsible guy.

Clark crossed his arms, “It was ten years ago, I was a teenager on vacation. Like you’ve never done anything stupid as a teenager.”

Lois flushed; Clark could feel her heart rate pick up as she got angry, “Well none of my stupidity ever ended up with a child in the mix.”

Clark had to keep his anger in check, lest he blurt out Conner’s true origin in a temper, “I didn’t know! You think I wouldn’t have done anything if I had?  If I’d have known about him I would have—!” he stopped, not really knowing what he would have done. What would he have done if he’d known that a hybrid clone of himself was being made? Would he have stopped it? Maybe put an end to it?

Would he have killed Conner?

“Would have what, Clark?” Lois asked, standing up from her chair. Clark could tell she wanted to face off with him, pick a fight, but his heart wasn't in it, not with the questions still plaguing his mind.

With a sigh, Clark backed down, “I don’t want to fight, Lois,” he said, “This is stressful for me enough without having to defend myself to you.”

Lois stayed on guard for a moment, then deflated with a sigh of her own, “Sorry,” she said, sitting down, “I shouldn’t be mad at you for this.” She reached out to her pen holder, but realized there were no more pens in it, “I just thought . . . I thought, with the way things were going between us, you would have told me.”

Clark ran a hand through his hair, “I’ve honestly been more focussed on what to do with Conner. I haven’t had time to think of anything else.”

“Right,” Lois said, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to make it all about me, I just . . . I wasn’t expecting it.”

Clark crossed the room and pulled a pen out of Lois’s hair and handed it to her, “I understand. I didn’t react well when I found out either.”

Lois took the pen and twirled it around her fingers. She leaned back in her chair and gestured for him to sit; the animosity between them had dissipated, “How are you holding up?”

Clark flopped down into the chair opposite her, “I’m doing okay I think,” he said, “It’s been a bit crazy, but I’m starting to get the hang of it.”

“And you’re . . . okay?” Lois asked, looking concerned.

Clark let out a long breath and ran his hands over his head, “I think I’m getting used to it,” he said, “I’d always wanted kids, I just thought I’d have settled down first.”

“The woman, Conner’s mother, she never tried to get into contact?” Lois asked.

Clark shook his head, “No, never. I hardly knew her.”

“Knew her enough, apparently,” Lois huffed. Clark glared up at her and she put her hands up, “Last one, sorry.”

“It’s . . . okay,” he said, “I probably should have let you know.”

“That would have been nice,” Lois said, “You just dropped off the face of the earth and all Perry would say was there was a ‘family emergency’. I was really worried.”

“Sorry,” Clark said, “I got a little distracted with everything else. I basically have to restructure my entire life.”

Lois winced, “Sounds tough,” she said. Silenced passed between them for a while, “I hope . . . there’s still room for me, once you’re done restructuring. I mean, I totally get it if there’s not, that’s completely fair, you have a son to think about now. But I hope we can still get that dinner we keep putting off sometime.”

“Of course,” Clark said, scooting forward and reaching out to take her hand in his, “I want you in my life Lois, no matter what,” he said, “We just might have to postpone dinner. Again.”

Lois laughed and turned her hand to squeeze his, “Seems like we’ll never get around to it,” she said, “Something always comes between us.”

Clark gave a wry smile, “We’ll figure it out,” he said, “It just might take a little more maneuvering, now that Conner’s involved.”

Lois smiled back, but then became serious, “Clark, I know what I said, but if you need to take the time right now to focus on Conner, I completely understand. He’s your son, and that has to take priority.”

Clark tensed slightly, “Right,” he said, dropping her hands, “I know he does. He should.”

Lois raised an eyebrow, “Clark? Everything okay?” she asked.

“Everything is . . .” Clark trailed off, not sure how to put it, “Everyone keeps expecting me to bond with him right away, love him like a father should. I just . . . I don’t know if I can.”

Lois’s face softened, “Oh Clark,” she said, reaching out for him again, “Have you talked with anyone else about this?”

Clark shook his head, “Not in such frank terms. Pa said I’ll feel it eventually, that it can take time, and I guess I feel better now than I did a week ago, but I don't know if I’ll ever love him like my Pa did me. I wanted kids, but not like this, without my consent in the matter.”

“Without consent?” Lois asked, confused. Her confusion melted away to horrified shock, “Clark, that woman, did she—?”

Clark realized what Lois was getting at before she said it, “No, God no,” he said quickly, “I was under the impression that she was on the pill is all,” he said, “And she never contacted me afterwards at all.”

Lois let out a breath of relief, “Oh, good,” she said. The silence came back for a few beats, “Look, I don’t really think I have any advice that won’t sound stupid, so I’m just going to say that I’m here for you Clark.” She squeezed his much larger hands in hers, “If you ever need to talk, you can talk to me.”

Clark smiled at her, “Thank you Lois, that means a lot,” he said.

They stayed that way for a while, gazing into each other’s eyes like lovesick idiots, before Clark coughed and moved back, aware that they were at work, which was not the time and place for lovesick gazing, “So, the Superman exposé?”

“Right,” Lois said, twirling around in her chair and picking out seemingly random files from the piles around her, “So I managed to get a little more work done on it. I don't know if you’ve noticed, being gone and looking after Conner, but Superman disappeared for about two weeks. He said he was off in space when I talked to him last night, but none of the other major Leaguers had noticeable absences in the same time frame.”

Clark spent the better part of the next half hour talking back and forth with Lois about the exposé, trying to put her on the trail of more innocuous things. When he realized how much time had passed, he winced and stood.

“I should get back to my desk,” he said, “I don't want to leave Conner there alone for too long.”

Lois’s face softened a little, “Alright, I’ll email you more details,” she said, “Go make sure your kid hasn’t wandered off.”

Clark smiled, “Thanks, sorry to run out,” he said, heading for the door.

“It’s not an issue. If you want to talk more, just bring Conner with you. I don’t mind,” Lois said.

“I just might, thanks Lois,” he said, “I’ll see you later?”

Lois smiled brightly at him; there was a tiny spot of her lipstick on one tooth, “Definitely,” she said.

Clark gave her one last smile before he left her office. He trotted back to his desk, feeling a little lighter than he had before. It felt good to be honest, even if that honesty meant admitting to feelings of inadequacy. He really did want to love Conner, but he felt trapped, like there was no choice  _ but _ to love him like a son. It was such a constraining feeling, one that Clark wished he could stop.

Lost in his thoughts, Clark almost didn't notice that Conner wasn’t at his desk until he was about to sit down. He shot back up so quickly he knocked his chair over, startling his neighbor, Deandra.

“Conner?” he called out, scanning around for the boy. His X-ray vision was all but useless in such a crowded building, and it would take much too long to pick out his heartbeat in the chorus of sounds around him (he wasn't familiar with it enough yet). Clark was starting to feel a little panicked, worrying that something had happened to Conner. Had he wandered off and gotten lost? Had someone led him away? Had Cadmus returned to put him back into one of those pods?

This in mind, Clark took off through the building, heart hammering in his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Lois got a little nasty here, probably took things too personally and reacted badly, but everyone likes flawed characters, and so I tried to write her as such. The guy you're crushing on suddenly has a kid and he didn't bother to tell you? I'd be a little pissed too (not that I'd crush on a guy, being the big gay lesbian I am). Also, timeline wise, I'm putting this around the time Lois and Clark are starting to have a romantic relationship, but it's very new and they're testing the waters of a serious relationship. I imagine Lois suspects that Clark=Superman already, but she's pretty clever about hiding her suspicions in front of others. Also Jimmy is adorable and I want one.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So my family was visiting me for like a week and that's why this took so long. School starts next week and I haven't gotten my shit together, so this might get updated slower than it has been. I'm going to try my best guys, don't worry.

After Clark left, Lois decided she needed some coffee, and got up to go to the breakroom. The breakroom coffee was notoriously tar-like, but the only other option was to go to the ground floor of the building where there was a small café, and Lois needed her caffeine fix now. Was she probably a little caffeine dependent? Probably, but that was the life of journalists.

Miraculously, the break room was empty aside from one lonely intern who was asleep at the table, and the coffee pot was half full. Lois set down her favourite work mug and filled it with the coffee sludge that was probably too old to be drank anymore, but she’d put worse in her body.

As she was digging out the cream she stashed away in the fridge (with her name written clearly on it and hidden away as best she could manage), Lois became aware of eyes on her. She slowly straightened, hoping it wasn’t Lombard ogling her again. Lois turned and looked around, but saw no one at first. She was about to return to her coffee when she noticed one of the cupboards slightly open. Moving as quietly as she could, Lois grabbed the first thing within reach as a weapon (a fork someone had left out) and made her way over to the cupboard.

Lois had found herself in a lot of trouble over the years (most of which she got herself into), and therefore had a lot of experience with things jumping out at her. She felt as though she was completely prepared for whatever was in the cupboard, waiting to pounce on her. Gripping the handle of the cupboard, Lois threw it open, brandishing her fork in case whatever it was tried to jump at her. A set a bright blue eyes stared up at her, surprise and a little bit of fear swirling in them.

“Conner?” Lois asked, lowering the fork, “What are you doing in the cupboard?”

Conner pulled back further into the cupboard, hugging his knees tightly to his chest, “Nothing,” he mumbled.

Lois wondered what the hell she was supposed to do in a situation like this, “Does your dad know where you are?” she asked.

Conner shook his head, and there was something in his eyes that looked so incredibly sad for a moment. Lois was tempted to reach out and wrap her arms around him to try and comfort him.

“He’s probably looking for you,” Lois said, “Want to go find him?” she offered.

“Can I stay here for a bit?” Conner asked, “It was too noisy out there.”

Lois raised an eyebrow, “Is that why you’re hiding?”

Conner nodded, “It got  _ really _ loud all of a sudden, it felt like my head was going to explode.”

Lois thought for a minute; she had to get back to her desk, but she couldn't just leave this kid here unsupervised, “Why don't you come back to my office with me for a bit? Then we can go find your dad.”

Conner didn't answer for a few beats, then slowly crawled out of the cupboard. He stood up to his full height and looked up at Lois expectantly, those big blue eyes so much like Clark’s it was entirely unnerving.

Lois felt something odd curl around inside her, “I just need to finish my coffee and I’ll take you to my office,” she said, ignoring the feeling for now.

Conner nodded and stood, waiting for her. He was surprisingly still and quiet, and very well behaved (aside from the hiding in the cupboard). She’d spent most of the day in her office, and hadn’t really talked to too many people until lunch (which was why she hadn’t known about the office gossip of Clark bringing a kid to work), but in the breakroom earlier she’d hear a few people discuss the boy, about how he seemed odd. They had wondered if the boy was mentally deficient in some way, and Lois could see where they might get the idea, but she didn't think he was deficient at all. Clark had mentioned that Conner had come from a bad situation, and Lois could see that. She knew what it was like to come from a bad place had have strange mannerisms that you picked up to avoid something worse. The odd feeling returned to the pit of her belly.

“Alright,” she said, taking a sip of her coffee to test it, “Let’s go back to my office for a bit. It’s pretty quiet there.”

Conner nodded and moved to her side to follow her closely. He was clutching at a stuffed wolf toy, stroking the white fur in his hands. A nervous compulsion, Lois thought. There was more to this boy then met the eye.

They weaved through the floor, dodging the people bustling about. It was a little busy, people had their second wind since after lunch and were now animated, talking over one another in a cacophony of voices. Lois glanced down at Conner to see that he now had the wolf in an almost stranglehold, trying not to show how much pain he was in. Lois’s heart sank for him and she reached down and took his hand, trotting them along much more quickly back to her office.

Once they were back in Lois’s office, Conner relaxed considerably, “Thank you,” he said.

Lois smiled down at him, “You’re welcome,” she said, giving his hand a squeeze. He was very warm, just like Clark always was. Maybe it was genetic.

Conner smiled up at her, making no move to remove his hand, unlike most other ten year olds. Did he get enough attention at home? Lois thought back to what she’d discussed with Clark.

“Okay, why don't you sit for a bit and I’ll text Clark to let him know where you are, okay?” Lois said, taking them further inside, gesturing for Conner to take a seat on the chair.

The slightly strained look came back to his face, but he nodded anyway, “Sure,” he said.

Lois hesitated for a moment, “Conner? Is there something wrong?” she asked.

Conner looked up at her, like he was surprised she noticed, “With what?” he asked.

“With Clark,” Lois asked, “You seem like you're mad at him.”

“I'm not mad,” Conner said, sounding a little defensive, “I just . . . sometimes I think he doesn't like being my dad.”

Lois’s heart broke, knowing exactly where Conner was coming from, but not being able to dispel his fears because of the talk she'd had with Clark only minutes before. What the hell could she say to Conner when Clark had only just been in here saying how he felt like he’d been violated by Conner’s existence? What could she do to comfort him without being disingenuous?

Putting her phone down for a moment, Lois knelt down by Conner and put a hand on his back, rubbing gently and saying nothing. Conner let out a sigh and leaned into the touch, closing his eyes.

“You’re dad will come around,” Lois said, “Give it a little time.”

Conner looked up at her, “You think so?” he asked, all earnest innocence.

Lois smiled at him, “Of course,” she said, leaving it at that, “I know your dad pretty well. He’s stubborn at first, but he’s got a good heart. I’m sure once he figures it out, he’ll be very happy to have you in his life.”

Conner looked up at her with a strange kind of reverence, like she had just imparted some grand wisdom on him. Lois had the sudden realization that this was the son of the man she was sort of maybe in love with. If she wanted to be involved with Clark at all, she’d have to at least get along with Conner.

“Look, Conner,” she said, “Sometimes, dads are big dummies who don't know how to be dads very well, but in this case, it’s not Clark’s fault. He’s still learning, just like you’re learning how to be his son. So just try to give him a little time, he’ll get his head out of his butt sooner or later. And if he doesn't, you can come to me and I'll yell at him for you.”

Conner laughed and nodded, “Okay,” he said, “Thank you.”

Lois smiled and ruffled his hair, making him giggle cutely. She finally stood and reached for her phone, “I’m going to text him now, okay?” Conner gave a nod, no longer looking strained at the idea of Clark finding him.

_ I found Conner in the break room _ , she texted,  _ He’s in my office with me now. _

Almost immediately after the text was sent, Clark was barreling through her door, hair in a disarray and eyes wild and frantic, “Conner!” he cried, reaching out and hauling Conner out of the chair to get a better look at him, kneeling in front of him, “What happened? Why did you run off like that? Are you hurt?”

“Clark, slow down!” Lois said, wondering if it would be in poor taste to laugh at how panicked Clark seemed, “He’s fine.”

Clark looked up at her, then back down at Conner, and Lois could almost hear his heart rate slowing, then spiking as his face twisted in restrained anger, “Conner, why did you leave my desk when I told you not to?”

Lois had to give Clark credit for not yelling, but she still felt bad for Conner, who shrank a little under Clark’s glare, “It got really noisy all of a sudden,” the boy said in a small voice, “It hurt my ears really bad.”

“Noisy?” Clark asked, face morphing once more into confusion.

Conner nodded, “Really  _ really _ noisy. Everything got so loud it felt like my head was going to explode.”

Clark’s eyebrows raised as he seemed to realize something. He glanced at Lois and cleared his throat, “Okay, well, please don't leave my desk again without telling me where you’re going. Leave a note next time.”

Conner nodded, “I will,” he said, “I’m sorry.”

Clark let out a small sigh and stood, taking Conner’s hand in his, “Thanks for finding him Lois. I'm really sorry about this.”

Lois waved him off, “Don't worry about it,” she said, “We had a nice talk, right Conner?”

Conner looked up at Lois and smiled softly, “Yeah, it was good.”

Clark looked between them and something in his eyes seemed to soften, “Good, that’s good. I’m glad,” he said, “We’ll get out of your hair now. So sorry for this.”

Lois waved them off, giving Conner a wink as he left. She went back to her desk and sat down, pulling her coffee close and taking a sip. It was disgusting, but it was coffee, so it would suffice.

* * *

The rest of the day passed by fairly mundanely; once Conner was back at Clark’s desk, whatever noise that had been bugging him seemed to have gone away, or he couldn't hear it anymore. Clark was 90% sure that what had happened was Conner’s super hearing had kicked in unexpectedly and it had freaked him out. Clark had never had never had his super hearing so early, but this was maybe the effect of Conner’s human side. He was going to have to take Conner to the Fortress of Solitude to run some more tests.

Finally, the clocked ticked over late enough that Clark could get away with clocking out early. He gathered all of this things, made sure Conner had everything, and then took them down and out of the building. He opted for a taxi again, wanting to avoid the noisy streets, but also not wanting to get spotted flying.

They were just walking in the door when Clark’s phone rang. It was the ringtone he used for the people who called him for ‘work’, so he quickly ushered Conner inside and picked up, “Hello?”

“Superman,” Flash’s voice came through the line, “Sorry about not getting back to you sooner, there was a thing with all the kids.”

“Something wrong? Did anyone get hurt?” Clark asked, a little worried. He’d met most of the sidekicks of the other heroes, and they were generally good kids. Robin was especially sweet and cheerful, though Clark hated to play favourites.

“No no, everyone’s fine,” Flash said, “But you know how we were going to bring all of them to the Hall of Justice in July?”

“Yeah?” Clark said, pinning his phone to his ear with his shoulder and glancing in the fridge. Still nothing. He really needed to get groceries.

“Well, turns out Green Arrow decided it was a good idea to let Speedy in on the existence of the Watchtower. Kid made a big stink about us not trusting them and got the other kids on his side. We were facing a bit of a mutiny and they buggered off on their own,” Flash explained, taking a little faster than normal, but not fast enough that Clark couldn't keep up.

“Oh no,” Clark said with a wince, “What happened?”

Flash sighed, “They went off on a mission,  _ alone _ , with no word to any of us.” He paused for a minute, “They actually handled it really well, we were really surprised. Which was why Batman, myself, Green Arrow, and Aquaman were all considering letting them make their own team.”

Clark raised an eyebrow, “Their own team? Like a Junior Justice League?”

“Kinda,” Flash said, “Well, honestly, I think they’re going to make a team together whether we like it or not. Might as well have it be on our terms.”

“Makes sense,” Clark said, “So there's been no discussion of whether or not any of them can babysit at all?” He actually didn't think any of them would appreciate having to babysit a ten year old that much, if they were so upset about being treated like kids.

“Actually, we were talking about it a little, and Batman had the idea to set them up in the old HQ, Mount Justice,” Flash said, “Martian Manhunter’s niece would join them and Red Tornado has agreed to live there to supervise. It’s not perfect, but someone should always be there to keep an eye out.”

Clark hummed, “It might work. He'd only be there when I’m at work or doing ‘work’, so it wouldn't be all the time. Plus, he’ll start school next September,” he said, “When’s this all coming together?”

“Really soon,” Flash said, “I’d call Batman for more details, you know how he is.”

Clark snorted, “Yeah, he always has to do everything himself,” he said, “I’ll give him a call. Thanks for letting me know Flash.”

“Anytime Supes,” Flash said, and Clark could hear him grinning, “I’ll talk to you later though, okay? I gotta run.”

Clark groaned at the lame pun, “Bye Flash,” he said. He hung up and failed a different number.

“Superman,” Batman greeted, “What do you need?”

“Hello Batman,” Clark said, “It’s nothing urgent, I was just wondering about what’s going on with the other sidekicks?”

“You talked to Flash?” Batman asked. When Clark gave the affirmative, he continued, “We’re going to set up the team in Mount Justice. It’s already being refurbished and Miss Martian, Martian Manhunter’s niece, is moving in by tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow? It’ll be ready that soon?” Clark asked.

“As a living quarters, yes, since only Miss Martian and Red Tornado will be living there full time. The rest of the HQ will need to be outfitted with new equipment for training and security,” Batman explained.

“But,” Clark interjected, “Hypothetically, Miss Martian and Red Tornado could keep an eye on Superboy during the day?”

“That’s something you’d have to talk with them about,” Batman said, “Was there anything else?”

“Yes actually,” Clark said, glancing over towards where Conner was reading on the couch, “I think Superboy’s hearing kicked in today for a few minutes.”

“His super hearing?” Batman asked, “Are you sure?”

“Pretty sure. He said it got so loud that he felt like his head was going to explode. Then he hid in a cupboard. It felt the same way when I first started getting my super hearing. It came in flashes that lasted a few minutes until I went somewhere quiet and calmed down,” Clark explained, “But I was maybe thirteen when it first started happening.”

“So his powers might come to him earlier than yours did,” Batman said, “We’ll have to keep a close eye on him.”

Clark hummed, “I was thinking I'd take him up to the Fortress of Solitude to run some tests with Kryptonian technology, see if it can't tell us more.”

“Good idea, get back to me with the results,” Batman said, “I'll check in with S.T.A.R. Labs and the investigation at Cadmus, see if they can shed more light on things.”

“Thank you,” Clark said, “I’ll let you know if I find anything.”

“Alright,” Batman said, “I’ll see you at the League meeting on Sunday.” There was a beep as the call ended.

Clark wasted no time in calling Martian Manhunter to confirm that his niece, M’gann, was going to live at Mount Justice and would be available to keep an eye on Conner during the day for at least a while before he figured out what to do about school for Conner. He also checked in with Red Tornado to make sure he would be around as well. It wasn't a perfect solution, but it would work while Clark figured out everything else.

With everything more or less taken care of, Clark was left with little else to do with the evening. Normally this would be the time when he went out across the city to do what he could for the people, but he still wasn't too confident in leaving Conner alone in the apartment. However, Lois had brought up a good point—people were starting to notice that Superman wasn't around so much in the last few weeks. He had a duty to protect people as much as he had a duty to look after Conner.

Clark glanced over at Conner, who was still reading, entirely engrossed in the exploits of Harry Potter and his friends in their first year at magic school. He should be fine in the apartment, shouldn't he? He wasn't a toddler who couldn't take care of himself at all, he was ten years old physically and mentally, he should be able to look after himself for a few hours.

“Conner?” Clark called to get his attention, “I’m going to go out for a while, do you think you’ll be okay alone?”

Conner looked up from his book, “Where are you going?” he asked.

“Just out for a while,” Clark said, “I need to get groceries.”

Conner wasn't fooled, “Are you going out as Superman?” he asked, eyes bright with excitement.

Clark sighed, “Yes, I am. Superman has to go and help people, but—”

“I want to come!” Conner jumped up, discarding his book, “Take me along!”

“Conner, no,” Clark said, frowning, “It’s way too dangerous for you to come. I can't help people if I'm worrying about you the whole time.”

“But I can help,” Conner insisted, “I’m Superboy, I have to help.”

“No Conner, you don't,” Clark said, trying to be gentle, “I need you to stay here and stay out of trouble, okay?”

Conner looked like he was starting to get upset, “But I  _ have _ to help,” he insisted, “I’m Superboy. It was what I was made for.”

Clark sighed and crossed the room, putting his hands on Conner’s small shoulders, “Conner, we’ve talked about this before. What you were  _ made _ for isn't necessarily what you  _ have _ to do. You get to decide that for yourself.”  _ When you’re older and capable of making those decisions _ , Clark added mentally.

Conner looked up at him, craning his neck to see, “But I  _ want _ to help,” he said, “I want to be like you.”

Clark pressed his lips together, trying to figure out what to say to that. He remembered something about getting down onto a child’s level when talking to them about important things (from one of the books Bruce sent over) and knelt down so he could look Conner in the eye.

“Conner,” he said, “It’s very good that you want to help, really, it is. But you’re not ready yet, your powers aren't fully developed. If you go out there, you might hurt someone or get hurt yourself, and it's my responsibility to make sure that doesn't happen. Do you understand?”

A look of profound disappointment crossed Conner’s face, but he nodded, “I understand,” he said, “But you don't know if I'll ever get powers. I heard you taking.”

“Ah, that’s—” Clark searched around for the right words again, “We . . .” He sighed, “You’re right, we don’t know,” he said, “But that’s all the more reason for you to stay here. We have to figure out what your powers are  _ before _ you can help people the way I do. If you go in without knowing what you can do, you could get hurt, and I . . .” Clark reached out and tucked a stray lock of hair around Conner’s ear—it was starting to get long, he’d have to have it cut, “I don't want that. I don't want you to get hurt.”

Conner stared up at Clark, eyes shining but expression sad, “Okay,” he said softly, almost a whisper. He took a hesitant half step forward, then stopped. Clark closed the gap and pulled Conner close to wrap him in a hug.

“I promise we’ll figure it out,” Clark said, “I’m not going to take Superboy from you. I just want you to wait a while.”

“How long?” Conner asked, even as he reached up to wrap his arms around Clark’s ribs.

“I’m not sure yet Conner. When your powers are fully developed,” Clark said.

“How long will that be?” Conner asked.

Clark ran his fingers through Conner’s hair, “A few years, at least,” he said.

Conner groaned, “But that’s forever,” he said.

Clark laughed, “You’ll live,” he said, “Now, are you going to be okay here? I’m going to be out for a while, but I'll come back around dinner time with food, okay?”

Conner nodded, “I'll be fine. I'll read and play and watch TV.”

“Good,” Clark said, standing up, switching to a slightly more authoritative tone, “If anything happens, I want you to go across the hall to Mrs. Ngugi’s apartment, okay? I’m going to have my cellphone on me, so call if you think you need to, but Mrs. Ngugi will take care of you if you need someone right away.”

“I will, I promise,” Conner said.

Clark stalled a little more, putting on his suit slower than usual and stopping to check on Conner a few times. He finally emerged from his bedroom in his full costume, ready to head out into the evening. Conner’s eyes shone at the sight of him, but he didn't ask to come along again, even though Clark could tell he wanted to.

“Alright, I’m heading out,” Clark said, “Be good, don't answer the door for anyone and stay inside. I'll be back for dinner in a few hours.”

Conner nodded, still watching him with a look of what one might call hero worship. Clark reached out to him and gave him a brief hug, “I'll try not to be long,” he said, knowing he couldn't promise anything.

Conner hugged him back and they stayed that way for a minute. Clark stepped back and went to the balcony, careful to check that no one was watching him. He glanced back once more to see Conner watching him. He gave a little wave, which Clark returned before taking off into the sky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we get a little of the YJ continuity in this chapter, though I've changed it a little due to reasons. Also Lois interacting with Conner was a lot of fun and I'm excited to write more of them together in the future.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Classes and shit starts tomorrow, so I don't know how quickly the next chapter will be up. I've got a pretty full schedule this year (graduation is on the horizon). I'm hoping to get this one done soonish actually, just a few more chapters. This actually ended up being a lot longer than I thought it was going to be when I started, but I love character studies and developing relationships and stuff. Oh well.

It ended up being a week before Conner would be able to go to Mount Justice, repairs and refurbishments continuing to hit snags here and there. In the meantime, Conner had to continue to come to work with Clark, despite the glares Perry kept sending to the back of Clark’s head. At the very least, the office got used to Conner’s presence fairly quickly and left them both alone after the first day. Jimmy and Lois both seemed to take it upon themselves to help keep Conner entertained and comfortable during the day. The four of them spent time on the roof for lunch together, engaging Conner in his games, Jimmy eventually managing to get Lois to join in as well.

Watching Lois play with Conner made Clark’s chest feel oddly tight, but he couldn't decide on whether or not it was a bad feeling. Lois, despite her eye rolling in the beginning, seemed quite happy playing ‘damsel in distress’ for Conner to ‘save’ while playing Superman. Jimmy and Lois gave Clark enough pointed looks that eventually he joined the game, acting as a prop more than anything else for Conner to sit up on his shoulders and ‘fly’. It was actually a lot of fun and worked quite well in tiring Conner out. The rest of the day he sat quietly at Clark’s desk, reading and tapping at his little game.

Lois especially seemed to bond well with Conner, the two of them often sitting with each other and talking in low voices. Clark did his best not to eavesdrop on them, but he couldn't help but notice the way Lois’s expression became so soft and caring around him. Watching them together, Clark caught himself thinking of his mother once or twice, but he quickly dismissed them. That wasn’t something he could think about right now, nor was it really fair to push that on Lois.

Conner and Clark’s evenings passed in much the same way every night. They would come home and then Clark would go out into the city as Superman, returning a few hours later to cook a late dinner. They would talk and spend time together until bedtime, often playing a game, or Clark teaching Conner more about the world.

After three nights of continuous work as Superman, Clark had to throw in the towel and actually get some sleep. He couldn't bring himself to kick Conner out of bed though, and the couch was way too small for him. He eventually decided to crawl into the bed with Conner, since there was plenty of room for both of them.

It felt awkward at first, Clark not knowing how close he should get to Conner, though the boy was fast asleep by the time he made up his mind to share the bed. Conner solved the problem for him by rolling over and curling right into Clark’s side, snuggling into his warmth. Clark tense for a moment, but slowly relaxed, realizing that it was really nice to cuddle with Conner. His only worry was that he might roll over a squash the boy, but he was usually a sound sleeper, so he didn't think it would be too much of an issue.

Clark had woken up the next morning with Conner all but on top of him, ear resting over his heart, sleeping soundly. Clark didn't usually linger in bed, but that morning, if he stayed put for a few minutes, no one would have to know. After that night, they spent every night curled around one another after Superman had finished going around the city to help.

The weekend finally arrived and Clark finally had the time to take Conner to the Fortress of Solitude to run those tests. He was a little nervous taking Conner all the way to the North Pole, since it was very cold and a long flight, but also because he didn't know how Krypto would react to Conner and vice versa.

Clark had never liked keeping Krypto at the Fortress, but while the dog was super intelligent, he was still a dog with super powers, and Clark couldn’t give him enough to do in the city, or even on the farm. He’d done his best to try and train Krypto, but Clark could only be in so many places at once. Krypto did a good job of protecting the Fortress, but Clark hoped he didn't try to protect it from Conner.

“Are we there yet?” Conner asked, starting to fidget in Clark’s grip, “We’ve been flying for hours.”

“An hour and a half,” Clark clarified, “And we’re almost there, just hold on,” he said. He could normally make the trip in under and hour, but he didn’t want to fly too fast and potentially hurt or drop Conner.

They finally touched down outside the Fortress. Clark quickly carried Conner inside, not wanting to be out in the cold for too long. He didn’t know how invulnerable Conner was just yet, and he didn't want to take the chance.

“Wow,” Conner said, looking around the huge space, “This is all yours?”

Clark set Conner down and made sure the door was sealed shut, “Yes, it’s made from part of an old Kryptonian ship that landed on earth around the same time I did.”

Conner stared up at the huge statues of Jor-El and Lara holding up the globe of Krypton, “Who’re they?” he asked.

“Those are my parents,” Clark said, “My biological ones from Krypton, before the planet’s destruction,” he explained. A little thrill went up Clark’s spine as he realized that he was going to get to teach Conner all about his Kryptonian heritage, that Clark wouldn't have to be the last Kryptonian.

Clark was pulled out of this revelation with the tell-tale sound of nails clicking on the crystal floors as Krypto barreled around the hallway, eager to greet his master. Clark hardly had enough time to put up a hand to command the dog to stop. He didn’t think letting Krypto crash into him while Conner was right next to him was a good idea.

“Krypto stop!” Clark said firmly just as the large white dog came into view. Conner jolted and huddled closer to Clark, surprised by the appearance of a large dog.

Krypto obediently stopped in his tracks, skidding a little on the slick floors slightly. He tilted his head in confusion, wondering why his master was not coming to pet him. Krypto’s nose twitched and he zeroed in on Conner, letting out a small growl; he didn't know who this was and he didn’t know if they were a threat.

“Krypto no,” Clark said sternly, putting a hand on Conner’s shoulder, “Bad dog.”

Krypto put his head down and whined, confused and not sure what to do, “Sit,” Clark commanded, pleased when the dog obeyed without hesitation. Training Krypto had been a very long process, but had paid off spectacularly. He turned his attention to Conner next, “Conner, this is Krypto, the Superdog,” he explained.

Conner turned to look at Krypto, who was still sitting patiently. He looked back at Clark, “Is he nice?” he asked.

“He’s a good dog,” Clark said, “But we’re going to let him smell you first okay?”

Clark took Conner’s hand and slowly walked them towards Krypto, who watched them curiously. First Clark put his hand out for Krypto to sniff, then motioned for Conner to do the same. Conner hesitantly put his hand out, almost retracting it when Krypto put his head forward to sniff. Clark held his breath as he waited for Krypto’s reaction. The dog didn’t really know anyone other than Clark, he couldn’t be trusted to keep his powers in check around other people and not hurt anyone.

However, things seemed to be going smoothly and after a minute, Krypto started thumping his tail on the ground. Clark let out a sigh of relief and gave the dog a pat on the head. Krypto lolled his tongue out and wagged his tail more, pleased by the attention.

“Come on, lab’s this way,” Clark said, motioning for Conner to follow him.

Conner and Krypto both followed, Conner looking around the huge Fortress as they went by, stopping every now and then to look at one of the displays that Clark had. Krypto kept his eye on Conner, still a little unsure about the boy, but not looking like he was going to attack any time soon. Clark didn't hurry them along, knowing they had time, and also wanting to let Conner explore a little. Like Krypto in the Fortress, he seemed fine in the apartment, but Clark felt guilty for not getting him out more.

They reached the lab and Clark started setting things up, hoping to get the tests done quickly, so he could take Conner around the Fortress and start teaching him about Krypton and his family history. With any luck, the Kryptonian technology would be able to tell him more about Conner and what to expect as he got older.

“Conner?” Clark called once the machines were primed. He didn’t see the boy anywhere, “Conner?” he called again, louder this time.

The sound of giggling drew his attention, and Clark followed it to see Conner and Krypto playing tug-of-war with one of Krypto’s favourite toys, the one he usually only brought out for Clark to play with. The toy had been brought with him from Krypton, and was surprisingly heavy for it’s size. Conner was holding it up with ease, and pulling back against Krypto’s strength pretty well. Clark wondered just how strong Conner was, but recalled that that was what he was here to find out.

“Conner, you and Krypto can play later,” he said, “We’ve got to run some tests now.”

“Do we have to?” Conner asked, just short of whining. Clark felt terrible; the boy had no one to play with that was his own age.

“Yes, but I promise you can play later,” Clark said, “We’ll try to be as fast as possible, okay?”

Conner gave a dramatic sigh, but let the toy go. Krypto stumbled back a few steps, but recovered quickly and shook his toy around, letting out a pleased bark. Conner smiled and reached out to scratch behind Krypto’s ears, no hesitation this time. Clark smiled at the scene, chest filling with a sense of happiness.

The tests ended up being longer than Clark expected. The machines didn't seem to know what to make of Conner at first, and Clark had to sort through the error messages for at least a quarter of an hour to get at any real information. By the time Clark was getting anywhere, Conner was starting to get impatient and frustrated.

“I know, just a little longer,” Clark soothed the pouting boy, “One more test and then we can stop for some lunch.”

Conner huffed, “You said that ten minutes ago,” he pointed out truthfully. A few feet away, Krypto lay on the floor watching them, waiting for Conner to come play with him.

Clark repressed a sigh and smiled down at Conner on the exam table, “I know, I’m sorry. Just one more test, I promise.”

Conner glared, but he lay still as Clark booted up the latest machine. Hopefully this one would give him a better picture of Conner’s physiology. Comparing it to Clark’s, they might be able to tell what powers Conner would have in the future. He’d have to get all the results to Bruce as soon as possible, the man could work wonders with any kind of data streams. Honestly, he should have invited Bruce along to the Fortress to do the tests with him, but he was still a little skittish on sharing his space with other people.

“All done,” Clark said, lifting the machine out of the way so Conner could get up, “Go on, go play.”

Conner lept up and ran off, Krypto jumping up with a delighted bark and bolting after him. Clark chuckled and shook his head, “Remember to eat your lunch at some point!” he called after them, then turned to the monitor to try and sift through the information he’d managed to pull.

The machines had initially been confused over whether or not Conner was Kryptonian, his human DNA seeming to overpower anything else. Then, once they’d detected enough Kryptonian DNA to actually work properly, it had given Clark varying results. Piecing it all together took a little time, but from what Clark could understand, Conner was actually technically a human clone with Kryptonian DNA grafted overtop, with genetic manipulations to enhance the Kryptonian part. It was still entirely unclear where the human DNA came from, but due to several signifiers, the machines guessed a male donor—cutting Conner’s potential human donors from the entire population of earth to roughly half of the entire population of earth. The markers of Conner’s physiology signified that he’d most likely end up with all of Superman’s powers, possibly powers that Superman didn’t have, but it was completely impossible to say when they’d emerge, or how strong they would be when they did.

Clark sighed and rubbed his eyes, deciding that he needed a break as well. He extended his hearing out through the Fortress to find Conner and Krypto and headed towards them. He certainly hoped that they hadn’t gotten lost; the Fortress could be a bit of a maze at times. He found them sitting together peacefully, in front of the statue of Jor-El and Lara, Conner eating lunch and sneaking little bites to Krypto, who he was basically laying against.

Clark looked up at Jor-El and Lara, at their serene faces and proud posture frozen in crystal forever. He looked down at Conner, curled up with Krypto and gently petting him, a soft smile on his face. Clark felt a smile of his own spread across his face. The past and the future, all in one image.

“You and Krypto seem to be getting along,” Clark said, coming over to sit with them. He tugged the bag of food they’d brought and pulled out his own lunch.

Conner smiled and reached to scratch behind Krypto’s ear, “He’s a good dog,” he said. He looked back up at Clark, “Do we have to do more tests?”

“In a bit,” Clark said, biting into his sandwich, “You know, there used to be clones on Krypton.”

“Really?” Conner asked, “Like me?”

“Kind of,” Clark said, before launching into the history of the clones of Krypton. A very condensed version which perhaps shied away from exactly how badly some clones were treated, though Clark made sure to emphasize that it was very bad that they had been treated that way. He ended up going into a few other parts of Kryptonian history in the process, but still ended up with Kon-El, who’d won the war for the rights of clones.

Clark leaned back on his hands, staring down at Conner, who looked like he was starting to fall asleep against Krypto, “I think it’s a good name for you,” he said.

Conner lifted his head, “What is?”

“Kon-El,” Clark said, “I think it fits for you.”

Conner tilted his head, “I thought my name was Conner?”

“Well, yes,” Clark said, reached out to brush a few of Conner’s flyaway curls back down into the rest of his mop, “But that’s your human name. You need a Kryptonian name too.”

“Yeah?” Conner asked, leaning into the touch. Clark indulged him by gently stroking his hair.

“Sure. I’m Clark Kent from Smallville, but I’m also Kal-El from Krypton. I think your Kryptonian name should be Kon-El,” he said.

Conner looked up at Clark with bright eyes and a wide smile. Conner’s eyes no longer unnerved Clark by how similar they were to his own eyes when he looked into them, and Clark felt more endeared now that he’d gotten used to it. Clark smiled down at Conner and tugged him close in a one armed hug, squeezing his shoulder.

“I’m Kon-El,” Conner said, as though testing the name out. Clark could feel him smiling as he leaned further into the hug, pressed right along Clark’s side, “I’m Kon-El.”

Clark smiled softly, “Yes you are,” he said.

* * *

Sunday night, Mount Justice was finally ready, which Clark was eternally grateful for. He didn't think he'd get away with bringing Conner in for another week at work. Jimmy and Lois would miss him, but Perry’s thinly-veiled threats to permanently put him on fluff duty and intern wrangling would only remain veiled for so long.

Clark also made the decision to bring Krypto to Mount Justice. It was a much better environment for a dog to be around people and have more things to do, and the HQ was more or less Super-proof, so he couldn't do too much damage. Plus, Clark figured it would do Conner well to have something familiar with him for the day, and something to look forward to when Clark had to leave him.  Batman hadn't exactly been on board with the idea, but he hadn't rejected it either, so Clark was taking that as a ‘yes’.

“Got everything?” Clark asked just before they were about to leave the apartment. It was a bit of a mess as Clark slowly packed his things up to move them upstairs. The new apartment needed to be cleaned and painted still, but Judith assured him that it was coming along as fast as it could.

“I’ve got everything,” Conner said, checking his backpack again to make sure. He was already on the third Harry Potter book, and had packed the fourth, just in case.

“Alright, let’s be quick,” Clark said. They would have to Zeta beam to Mount Justice, so Clark was in uniform. He’d have to dash back and put on his work clothes before he went in to work.

Conner nodded and lifted his arms so Clark could carry him, tucking him nice and secure in his arms. The Metropolis Zeta beam wasn't too far away from the apartment, but it had been built knowing that nothing was really that far away from a man who could travel faster than bullets.

They arrived at the Zeta beam and Clark kept his grip on Conner; the first Zeta trip could be a little disorienting. He let the retinal scanner do it’s job and then said his override code so it would let Conner pass with him. He'd debated with Bruce over letting Conner have his own code, but ultimately decided that it was better for now that Conner could only have limited travel through the Zeta beams, meaning that he’d have to travel with either Clark or another Leaguer (though Clark was going to get him an emergency code, just in case).

Clark had to admit, Mount Justice conjured a certain amount of nostalgia within him, the hollowed out mountain being the first HQ of the Justice League, all those years ago. Now it was being passed on to the next generation to use, which seemed entirely fitting. The entire interior had been retrofitted and updated with new technology for training and missions, and Clark could sense that more of the mountain had been hollowed out to accommodate some improved living quarters and entertainment areas. It was very impressive, batman had really outdone himself.

Red Tornado was there to greet them in the main entrance, “Superman, Superboy, nice to see you both,” the robot said.

“Hello Red Tornado,” Clark said, “How are you?”

“I am operating at optimal capacity,” Red Tornado answered, “Miss Martian is in the kitchen, if you would like to introduce Superboy to her.”

Clark glanced at Conner, “You ready?” he asked. At conner’s nod, Clark set him on his feet and walked them to the kitchen. They were about halfway there when they heard excited barks and the skitter of claws on slick floors.

“Krypto!” Conner exclaimed cheerfully as the dog came around the corner, nearly crashing into them in his eagerness to see them. Krypto immediately rolled onto his back so Conner could rub his belly, “Good dog,” Conner said, happily obliging the animal.

“Krypto, up,” Clark commanded after a moment. While the scene was adorable, he had to get to work soon and he wanted to meet Miss Martian before he had to go.

Miss Martian—M’Gann M’orzz—was stirring something in a large mixing bowl when they arrived in the kitchen. She was in her green form rather than a human one, but unlike Martian Manhunter, she’d made herself a head of red hair and freckles. She looked a little ‘girl next door-ish’, cute and non-threatening, but Clark knew that looks could be deceiving. J’onn trusted her, so Clark was willing to give her the benefit of the doubt.

M’Gann looked up at them as they walked in, “Oh, hello!” she said cheerfully, smiling and putting her spoon down. She lifted off the floor and floated over, “I’m M’Gann, but you can call me ‘Megan’ if you like. You must be Superman.” She extended a hand in greeting.

Clark smiled and took her hand, which was tiny in his, “Nice to meet you Megan,” he said.

Megan beamed, pleased that he’d used the human name she’d picked for herself, “It’s so nice to meet you. Uncle J’onn speaks very highly of you,” she said.

“I think very highly of him as well. He’s a very good colleague,” Clark said. He gestured down at Conner, “This is Superboy, or Kon-El. Are you sure you’re okay to watch him all day?”

Megan turned her bright smile down at Conner, “I’m sure we’ll get along just fine,” she said. She crouched down to conner’s height and extended her hand again, “Hi Conner, I'm Megan.”

Conner glanced up at Clark for a half second before he took her hand, “I'm Kon,” he said, “And this is Krypto.”

Hearing his name, Krypto gave a small ‘woof’ and wagged his tail. Megan smiled and patted his head, “I’m sure we’ll all be great friends,” she said.

Clark let himself relax, “Thank you Megan. I know this probably isn’t what you had in mind when you first came to earth.”

Megan perked up, “Actually, I’ve always wanted to be a babysitter! Taking care of little kids looks like so much fun!”

_ Poor girl is really in for it _ , Clark thought, putting a smile on his face, “I’m sure it will be,” he said. He crouched down to be eye level with Conner, “You be good for Megan, okay? I’ll try to be back right after work, okay?”

Conner nodded, “I will.”

Clark smiled and hugged Conner briefly. He scratched Krypto behind his ears before he made his way back to the Zeta beam in the main entrance. It felt odd, not having Conner trailing after him, leaving him behind to what was essentially a stranger. Clark wondered if this was what parents felt like when they left their children at school for the first time.

That thought sent Clark’s stomach heating oddly; for all the progress he’d made with Conner, they still never used ‘father’ or ‘son’ with each other if they could help it. Sometimes it was necessary to use the words when talking to normal people, but they always felt strange in his mouth. Clark wondered if he was giving Conner a complex, not calling him his son. The thought made him feel a little guilty; it was something he’d have to work on with Conner later. Hopefully he wasn’t too late to give Conner a positive relationship that would help him grow into a healthy adult (Clark had probably been reading way too many of the books Bruce sent him at once).

Clark had to put it out of his mind for now, he had to get to work. Conner would be fine with Megan, and he trusted Red Tornado. Everything would be fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Conner gets his Kryptonian name and we finally meet Miss Martian! Next chapter we get to meet the rest of the YJ team.
> 
> Also, there's a passing reference to Krypto in season one of YJ when Conner names Wolf, and in the comics Conner had a good relationship with Krypto, so I'm kinda smashing that together here.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I LIVE BITCH. So University has been eating most of my time and I've got one shit-million things to do and by the time I'm done them I just want to do mindless shitposting on the internet and that leaves very little room for writing, so we'll see how long the next chapter takes.
> 
> I think this is the first time I've written from Conner's perspective through this whole fic, so it was a bit of an adjustment for me. Which is weird because Conner is a central figure in this fic.
> 
> **WARNING** Depiction of a panic attack in this chapter.

Megan looked down at Kon when Superman left, “You want to help me make cookies?” she asked, smiling brightly.

Kon nodded, saying nothing, his confidence drying up slightly as he realized he didn't have Clark to hide behind if he felt upset. He squeezed Wolf a little and gave Krypto a reassuring pat (the reassurance was more for Kon than Krypto). Megan smiled, and held out her hand for Kon to take.

“Cookies are really fun,” she said, “I haven’t really gotten the hang of them, but the others from the team are arriving in a few hours, so that should give us some time to figure it out, right?”

Kon stepped around to the side of the counter, “Sure,” he said quietly. The only other lady he’d ever been alone in a room with was Lois, but this seemed a little different somehow. Maybe because Megan was so much younger, or maybe it was because she was an alien, but Kon couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

Megan handed him a bowl filled with the dry ingredients, “Here, you can mix this one,” she said, still smiling brightly. She certainly seemed cheerful.

As they mixed, Megan talked, telling Kon about how excited she was to be on earth and experience earth things. Kon listened attentively, nodding along when he felt it was appropriate, still carefully mixing the dry ingredients. Magen seemed not to notice if he was listening or not, maybe because she was focussed on her own bowl of the wet ingredients, maybe didn’t care about if he was listening, or maybe didn’t know how to show that she cared about Kon listening to her, being an alien and all. Kon could relate to that; sometimes he did something and immediately felt like he had misstepped somehow, not from anything internal, but from the reactions of others around him.

“Alright, now we pour them together,” Megan said, glancing again at the recipe book she had out. She lifted her hands and the contents of both bowls lifted into the air. Kon jolted and took a step back, trying to make sense of what was happening.

“Oh!” Megan said, dropping her hands. The dry and wet ingredients plopped back down into their bowls, the wet with a slosh and the dry with a powdery ‘foomf’, “I’m so sorry! Did I startle you?” she asked, bending at the waist to look at him.

Kon stared at the bowls, “How did you do that?” he asked.

Megan stood up straight, smiling again, “I’m a martian! Martians are telekinetic. We can move stuff with our minds.”

Kon felt like he should know this, like there was a gap in his knowledge. He’d overheard Clark on the phone, talking about him to someone, and how they assumed the information that had been downloaded into his head was incomplete, whether by not having enough time to get it all in, being restricted by his age and his capacity for data storage, or just omitting some things, intentional or unintentional. Kon could recite the entirety of the United States Constitution verbatim, but he had no idea what a hairdryer was until he encountered it in Ma’s bathroom. It could be a little frustrating, because he  _ knew _ what a martian was, that there were two kinds, that they were aliens and they came from Mars, but he had very little idea of what they could do.

Megan, somehow, seemed to sense Kon’s frustration and gave him a sympathetic smile, “Aw, it’s okay. I’m learning stuff too,” she said, “Why don't we mix the cookies the human way?” she suggested.

Kon nodded, feeling a little more at ease. Megan didn’t seem like the kind of person that would judge him for being different.

Smiling again, Megan took the bowl of wet ingredients and poured it into the other bowl. She handed the mixing spoon to Kon and watched gleefully as he carefully mixed the dry and wet together into dough. Megan didn’t seem overly concerned with how slow he was going, not urging him on at all, content to wait for him to go at his own pace. It was a bit of a relief to feel that way; unrushed.

Once the dough was sufficiently mixed, Megan divided it into little cookie shapes using a cutter and then put them into the oven, “There! Now we wait!” she said gleefully, “What do you want to do while we wait?”

Kon shrugged, “I like to read,” he said, “Or we could play.”

“Playing sounds fun,” Megan said, “What do you want to play?”

Kon hesitated in saying his favourite game, ‘Superman’; it had become something he played with Jimmy, Lois, and Clark, like a little club for just the four of them. He glanced at Krypto, who had sat in the corner, watching them while they baked.

“We could run around with Krypto,” Kon said, remembering something Clark said, “He needs to get exercised.”

“Sounds like fun!” Megan exclaimed, clapping her hands once, “Why don't we walk around the head quarters to explore it a little? I only just moved in, so I’m not very familiar with it myself.”

Kon nodded, “Okay,” he said. He turned to Krypto and called him, pleased when the dog bounced up and darted to his side.

“His little cape is so cute,” Megan cooed, “Come on, let's go exploring!”

Kon and Megan spent the next hour wandering through the head quarters, letting Krypto run around. The whole structure wasn’t as large as the Fortress of Solitude, but Clark had explained that it would be better for Krypto to be around people than to have a larger space.

“Dogs are just like people, they need to socialize,” Clark had said.

“Why can't he just come live with us?” Conner had asked, tilting his head. They were moving into a bigger apartment for a reason, weren't they?

Clark sighed and turned to face Conner, kneeling down to look him in the eyes the way he did when he really wanted Conner to listen, “Krypto can't really be around normal people or other dogs, so this is going to be the best option for him. He’s a lot like us that way.”

Conner hadn't really understood it that well, but he hadn't argued. Krypto seemed perfectly happy here anyway, trotting around and sniffing everything that remotely caught his attention. It was all so new to Krypto, having only seen the inside of the Fortress for a very long time. Kon could sympathize with that, the feeling of newness and the exhilaration it could bring. Opening his eyes for the first time at Cadmus was still one of the strangest, most terrifying, best experiences of his very short life.

There was a chime as the PA system clicked on, “Miss Martian, Superboy, the other team members have arrived in the strategy room. Please make your way there in haste,” Red Tornado’s voice sounded through the halls, made even more mechanical by the speakers.

Megan let out a high pitched squeal, “Oh this is so exciting! I’ve never had a team before! What do you think they’ll be like?”

Kon shrugged, “I haven't met them,” he said. The prospect of meeting more strangers made his heart pound a little. Krypto gave a soft whine and nudged into his side; Kon put an arm around his neck and stroked his fur, glad that the dog was so intuitive.

They made their way to the hall that Kon had first come through with the Zeta beams. Kon could see several members of the Justice League standing around and talking to four teenaged boys, which he assumed were Robin, Kid Flash, Aqualad, and Speedy, the sidekicks he’d overheard Clark talking about. Kon smiled when he recognized Flash and Green Lantern amidst the crowd.

Martian Manhunter looked up as they walked towards them and broke from the group, meeting them halfway. Manhunter smiled politely at Kon and turned his attention to Megan. They didn't say anything, but they were communicating somehow based on what Kon could read on their faces. Manhunter finally gave a nod and turned to Kon.

“Hello again, Superboy. It is nice to see that you are well,” Manhunter said, “Would you please wait here a moment while we get the team acquainted?”

Kon nodded, relieved that he wouldn't have to go up and meet anyone right away. He could observe for a few minutes without having to interact right away. He wanted to say hi to Flash and Green Lantern at least, the two people he'd ever encountered who hadn't wanted to stick him back into the Cadmus pod, so he felt he owed them a greeting.

“We won't be long, okay?” Megan said, patting the top his head. Kon nodded, leaning into Krypto’s side as they walked away. He tried to hear what everyone was saying, but his super hearing, which had plagued him on and off through the last week, decided that it didn’t like being told what to do and didn’t activate. Kon frowned and tried harder, but to no avail.

Kon was trying so hard to get his super hearing to work that he almost didn't notice when the group began to disband. Megan and the boys were talking amongst one another, but the adults had broken off to discuss other things. Flash looked up and spotted Kon; he smiled brightly and waved, motioning him over.

“Hey kiddo, how have you been?” Flash asked when Kon reached them.

“Hi Flash, I’m good,” Kon said.

It was a little strange to think that it was less than a month ago that Flash and Green Lantern had found him at Cadmus. The first few hours of his life were such a chaotic jumble; waking up and escaping from his pod, only to be chased around by creatures trying to put him back, not sure  _ why _ he was running, only that he had to. Flash and Green Lantern had been the first things that stood out clearly in his memory, gently coaxing him from his hiding place and making him feel safe, even though he only just barely understood the concept of ‘safe’ at the time.

Flash smiled and reached out to ruffle Kon’s hair, “It’s good to see you,” he said, “You’ve changed so much since I saw you last time.”

Kon leaned into the touch, remembering the first time this had happened. He’d never felt the touch of another human being before Flash and Green Lantern found him, and it was the first thing he’d ever coveted.

“Is that who I think it is?” Green Lantern came around to stand at Flash’s side, grinning wide, “Heya kiddo, how're you?”

“Hi Green Lantern,” Kon said, straightening his hair where Flash had messed it up, “I’m doing fine.”

“That's good, I'm glad to see you’re doing good,” Green Lanter said. His smile went a little strained at the edges, “Superman is treating you okay?”

“He is now,” Kon said, “He named me Kon-El.”

Flash and Green Lantern shared an unreadable look, “That’s great kiddo,” Flash said, “If you ever need to talk to someone, you can give either of us a call, okay?”

“Right,” Green Lantern said with a nod, “No matter what, alright?”

Kon glanced between the two of them, “Okay, I will,” he said. He smiled and thought of something, “You want to meet my dog Krypto?”

The two adults seemed to relax a fraction, “Sure, I love dogs,” Flash said, walking alongside Kon. Green Lantern seemed a little less enthused, muttering about ‘alien dogs’, but he followed anyway.

Kon knew what they were trying to do, what they meant when they worried about him and Superman. Kon had learned a lot in the weeks since he’d first woken up, and there was so much of it all at once, sometimes it was all a jumble and he forgot which things happened when. But he remembered starkly the first time he reached out to Superman, only to have the man step away, to recoil from him. You didn't really forget the first taste of rejection you ever felt, no matter how much Clark had come to care for him in the last few weeks.

Soon, Flash and Green Lantern had to leave, along with the rest of the Justice League. Batman came over to check on Kon before he left; Kon felt a little intimidated by Batman, but he didn’t think he was scary like he’d other people say he was. He didn’t smile or anything like other adults, but he radiated a strange, calming energy. Kon wasn’t sure if it made him want to sit quietly and behave or run around like crazy. Either way, Batman seemed like he would be fine with it.

“How has your hearing been?” Batman asked, giving Krypto an absent pat when the dog came up to him.

Kon shrugged, “It comes and goes,” he said. He frowned, “I can’t make it work on my own.”

“Have any of your other senses heightened spontaneously?” Batman asked.

Kon shook his head, his frown deepening, “I don’t think I have any other powers,” he said.

Batman regarded Kon for a moment, “Even if you don’t, that doesn’t make you less,” he said finally, “You’ll be fine.”

Kon looked up at Batman, a little taken aback by his words. Before he could say anything in answer, Batman gave Krypto one last pat and walked back to speak to Robin for a short while, and then left.

Soon it was only Red Tornado, Black Canary, and the five teenagers left. Kon waited while they all talked, but an acrid smell caught his attention. He walked briskly up to Megan and tugged on her cape to get her attention.

“Oh, Kon!” she said, whirling around, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to leave you waiting for so long. Did you get bored?” she asked, placing a hand on his cheek gently.

“Your cookies are burnt,” Kon said.

Megan blinked, and with a yelp, dashed off, floating instead of running and leaving Kon with the four strange boys he’d never met.

“She’s so cute,” one of the redheads said, grinning widely. Kon assumed this was Kid Flash.

“So you must be Superboy,” the dark haired boy wearing dark sunglasses said. He was a lot smaller than the other three, and Kon guessed he was Robin.

Kon nodded, “You can call me Kon,” he said.

Kid Flash smiled down at him, “Cool beans Konny,” he said, “I’m Wally, this is Kaldur'ahm, sourpuss back there is Roy, and the killjoy in the shades is Robin.” Kid Flash—Wally—elbowed Robin in the ribs.

Robin elbowed him back, “Batman’s really strict about secret identities,” he protested, “I almost thought he wouldn't even let me come in civies.”

“My name is  _ Kon _ ,” Kon insisted, frowning a little, “Not  _ Konny _ .”

Wally laughed, “Sorry,  _ Kon _ , I’ll remember from now on,” he said, “So you're going to hang out with us here at Mount Justice? Cool. You can be like our mascot.”

Roy scoffed, “I don’t see why he even has to be here,” he snarled, though it wasn’t directed at Kon, “We didn't agree to this team to be a glorified Babysitters Club.”

“The situation was explained to us Roy,” Kaldur said. His voice was deep and had an almost melodic quality to it. Kon decided he liked it, “Kon is here only because there is no other place for him until the next school year starts. Superman is trusting us to watch out for him until then.”

Roy grumbled something else under his breath, but seemed to calm down a little at the mention of Superman. Everyone really seemed to respect and look up to Superman; the thought made Kon feel a little proud.

“We should probably go see if Megan’s okay,” Wally said, weirdly eager, “Maybe she needs our help.”

“She’s pretty good in the kitchen on her own, I think she’s fine,” Kon said, confused when Robin burst out laughing and Wally looked down at him with a stunned expression on his face.

“That’s really not what he was talking about, little man,” Robin said, putting a hand on his shoulder, “Come on, let’s go find Megan.”

They made their way to the kitchen just as Megan was unsticking the last burnt cookie from the pan, “I keep getting it wrong somehow,” she said, pouting down at the crumbled mass of charred cookies, “We don’t bake on Mars, so using an oven is new to me.”

Wally reached for a chunk of cookie and popped it into his mouth, already reaching for a second chunk. When the others stared, he shrugged, “I burn a lot of calories. I’m always hungry.”

As the older kids began to talk and make friends, Kon felt oddly pushed aside. They were literally talking over his head, and about things he didn't understand. Feeling a little put out, Kon wandered away to sit with Krypto, sneaking him a bit of burnt cookie (that had no chocolate chips in it). He was contemplating moving out of the room altogether when a strange sensation invaded his brain.

Kon was suddenly back in Cadmus, unable to move, to wake up, to  _ think _ for himself. Tendrils of something  _ not him _ pushed into his brain, forcing information into his head.  _ You belong to Cadmus, you exist because Cadmus allows it, Cadmus is your home _ , phrases like these swirled around his head, and Superboy (because he wasn’t Kon, he wasn’t  _ real _ , he was a  _ weapon _ ) didn’t know this was wrong. He couldn’t know, because they wouldn’t  _ let _ him know. He was a weapon. He wasn’t a real boy. He was a weapon.

Kon didn't realize he was shaking so hard until he noticed that words were being pushed into him.  _ Where are you going Kon? Come back and talk with us! _ It was Megan who was invading him, and Kon whirled around, heart pounding with a mix of fury and overwhelming fear.

“ _ Get out! _ ” he shrieked at her, “Get out of my head! You’re bad! You’re a bad  _ bad _ girl!”

The teenagers all watched Kon in shock, and Megan looked like she was about to cry. Kon suddenly couldn’t stand everyone watching him and bolted, running as fast as he could away from them, from  _ her _ . Someone shouted his name, but he could hardly hear over the pounding in his ears.

Kon hadn’t gone too far when a strong hand grabbed hold of his arm, pulling him to a stop.  _ If they caught him, they’d put him back in his pod _ . Kon cried out and struggled to get away, but the hand held fast. He turned and tried to take a swing at whoever was holding him, but his wrist was caught in a similar iron grip. He lashed out with a kick, feeling vindicated when he connected with a shin and got a pained grunt in return.

“Kon-El!” Kaldur said, raising his voice, but not shouting, “You need to calm down!”

Kon didn’t listen, still trying to wrest himself from the Atlantean’s hold. He could feel tears streak down his face and his chest started to constrict, like he couldn’t get enough air into them. His vision blurred and he gasped, trying to force his lungs to work, but they wouldn’t listen to him. Things started to go dark.

“Kon,” Kaldur’s voice cut through the hazy buzzing in his ears, calming and near, like he’d crouched down (when had he done that?), “Breathe outward. Expel all of the air from your lungs.”

Kon couldn’t understand the words at first, but Kaldur repeated them a few times in the same soothing tone and finally Kon followed. He blew out all the air, though he felt like he shouldn’t. When his lungs were empty, they immediately inflated, pulling in the oxygen Kon desperately needed. He started to sob hysterically again, but Kaldur repeated his instructions again.

Kon repeatedly blew out all the air he could and sucked in deep breaths for maybe a minute. When he stopped, he felt a little light-headed, but his heart had slowed down and he didn’t feel like he was somewhere else anymore. There were still tears spilling down his cheeks, but he could see again and he knew he wasn't in Cadmus anymore.

Kaldur was kneeling in front of him, watching him intently. There was a whine and Kon noticed Krypto nearby, the picture of canine confusion and worry.

Kaldur let out a relieved sigh when Kon was finally calm, “Are you better now?”

Kon nodded, then immediately shook his head as he felt more tears sting his eyes and a wail bubble up in his throat. Kaldur hesitate a moment before pulling Kon to his chest, letting him cry into his shirt. Kon clung to Kaldur and cried, over-emotional from what had happened to him.

After about two minutes, Kon began to wind down. He sagged against Kaldur, drained of energy, feeling raw and exposed. Kaldur sat him back a little and began to clean his face of tears with a little cloth tissue he had in his pocket. He had Kon blow his nose, then stowed the tissue. Krypto inched a little closer, whimpering and snuffling, trying to figure out why his master was so upset. Kon lifted a hand and the dog immediately licked him, crowding up close and letting Kon cling to him with one arm, though they ended up a little squished up against Kaldur.

“How do you feel?” Kaldur asked, staring down at Kon with concern.

Kon took a deep breath, “She  _ invaded _ me,” he said, “She’s just like Cadmus.”

A look a sadness crossed Kaldur’s face, “Yes, she went into your mind without permission, and that was wrong of her,” he said, rubbing Kon’s arms, “But she is not like Cadmus. She meant no harm to you.”

“She didn’t?” Kon asked, suspicious.

“No, she did not,” Kaldur said, “All Martians are telepathic, that’s how they communicate. Megan does not realize that, on earth, this is an invasion of privacy. She was only trying to talk to us in a way that was familiar to her. She did not know what she did was wrong.”

Kon tilted his head, contemplating that. He supposed he understood not knowing, he didn’t know a lot of things when he first woke up, but he didn’t think he forgave Megan. The memory of her in his head, of  _ Cadmus _ in his head, made him shiver again. Krypto gave another whine and licked Kon’s face.

Kaldur started rubbing Kon’s arms again, as though to warm him up, like he was shivering because he was cold, “I am certain that if you spoke to her, she will be very sorry for what happened,” he said, “Her intention was not to harm you.”

Kon crossed his arms over his stomach, trying to ignore the hot, sick feeling swirling there, “I’m not sorry for yelling,” he said defiantly.

Kaldur sighed, “You do not have to be sorry for being upset, no one is asking that of you. But I think perhaps you should apologize for your unkind words. Forgiveness might come slower, but Megan is not bad. She will certainly apologize for her actions, and so you should extend the same kindness.”

Kon remained stubborn for a minute, but eventually relented, “Fine,” he mumbled, “But I don’t forgive her.”

“That is fine,” Kaldur said, standing up. He extended his hand for Kon to take, smiling gently. Kon smiled back and took the offered hand, the other going to Krypto’s back, feeling the warmth and softness of the dog.

They arrived back in the kitchen shortly. Megan was sitting on one of the kitchen stools, eyes red and tears staining her face, while Robin and Wally spoke to her in low voices, comforting her. Roy stood awkwardly on the other side of the kitchen island, arms crossed and shifting his weight from foot to foot. They all looked up as Kaldur and Kon entered, Krypto pressed against Kon’s side like a steadfast guardian.

“Kon!” Megan said, floating up from her chair and alighting in front of Kon on her knees so she was eye level with him, “I’m so so sorry! I didn't mean to upset you. I didn't know that it was wrong to go into your head. Things are so different here on earth and I just forgot that you don't talk like that here. I’m so sorry! Please don’t be mad?”

It took Kon a second to decipher what Megan was saying, but he finally managed to understand. He squeezed Kaldur’s hand and Kaldur squeezed back, “I forgive you, and I’m sorry I yelled,” Kon said.

A look of relief washed over Megan. She moved to hug him, but Kon stepped back, closer to Kaldur. The memory of being in Cadmus's clutches was still too fresh in his mind, and he couldn’t forgive her for that just yet.

Megan looked hurt by his actions, but Kaldur stepped in, “Perhaps it would be best to give  Kon a little time?” he suggested, “This has been a very upsetting experience for him.”

Megan bit her lip, but moved back and stood up, “Right, of course,” she said, “Sorry.”

Kaldur squeezed Kon’s hand again, then let him go. Kon almost tried to drag him back, but Kaldur gave him another soft smile. While he went off to talk with Megan for a moment, Robin and the other boys came up to him.

“You okay Kon? You had a pretty strong reaction there,” Wally asked.

“You need a glass of water?” Robin offered, “Why don't we all sit down?”

Kon nodded and they moved to the kitchen island. Robin filled a glass from the tap and handed it to Kon. Kon sipped at it at first, but then drank it in huge gulps, dehydrated from his earlier emotional roller coaster.

“Slow down kiddo, don’t choke,” Robin said, “You want to tell us what happened?”

Kon went through what happened after he ran out of the kitchen, the things that he saw in his head and how freaked out he got. He wondered if maybe he shouldn’t have mentioned anything with how stricken the three older boys looked.

“You had a panic attack?” Wally asked, “Damn kid, I’m really sorry.”

“Panic attack?” Kon asked, “What’s that?”

Robin gave him a quick rundown on what a panic attack was and what a ‘trigger’ was, “They can be pretty nasty. One time I got one really bad when I saw Batman fall off a roof.”

“I get them if I’m in a confined space for too long,” Wally said, “Like, it’s so cramped that I can’t move or get out. I’m fine for like five minutes maybe, but then I just bug out.”

Kon was a little surprised to hear that these older boys had similar experiences, and more importantly that they would admit to them so easily. They all turned to Roy next, who so far had been silent.

Roy remained silent for a minute, before he caved under their collective stares and groaned, “I don’t like open flames,” he admitted, but seemed to shut down immediately after he said it. Opening up seemed hard for him.

“What, like candles and fireplaces?” Wally asked, raising an eyebrow.

Roy gave a noncommittal shrug and said nothing. Wally rolled his eyes and Robin sighed, “Point is, we all have things that freak us out. It’s completely normal,” he said, putting a hand on Kon’s shoulder, “We’ll help you.”

Kon smiled up at the older boy, “Thanks,” he said. Robin and Wally both smiled back and Roy seemed to get a little less tense.

Wally tossed an arm around Kon’s shoulder, “Stick with us kiddo, we’ll take care of you.”

Kon leaned into his side, smiling and feeling much better. Was this what it was like to make friends? If so, Kon figured he could get used to it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was basically 'Kon meets the Team and has a shitty first day'. I also wanted to go into Conner's psychology a little here. In the show he has a really strong reaction to Megan's telepathy, and I wanted to go into that a little bit more.
> 
> Also I posted this on tumblr but I'm going to post it here as well because I think it's important. Read it on tumblr [here](https://mishaberrywrites.tumblr.com/post/165354107520/a-minor-annoyance).
> 
> So I recently got a comment on Fly Before You Walk asking if I took requests for one shots or multi-chapter fics. This is a fair enough question, but I politely said that no, I don’t, but I do take commissions and they were welcome to commission a short fic if they wanted. I even helpfully provided a link to my commissions post.
> 
> About a day or so later, I get [this anon ask](https://mishaberrywrites.tumblr.com/post/165137407750/i-have-a-prompt-for-you-if-youre-interested-in), prompting me for a fic. I’m not sure if this is the same person or not since it was an anon, but if it was, I would like to say that I find this incredibly rude.
> 
> I don’t think I’m being mean when I point out that I take commissions and not requests. I’d like to make money off of my art, just like anyone else on this site. Anything I post here that’s not a commission is more for my own pleasure than anyone else’s and is provided to the general public for free. People are welcome to enjoy it with me or to completely ignore it, that’s up to them. If someone would like to see me write something specific, they are welcome to commission me, as I’ve made clear.
> 
> What I don’t appreciate is this attitude that you can come to me with a ‘prompt’ after I’ve specifically stated that I don’t take requests and that people are welcome to commission me instead. If you don’t want to commission me, that’s fine, I get it, I don’t always have money for shit either, but don’t come to me expecting that I’ll do something anyway because you phrase it ‘nicely’.
> 
> I love to write, I always have, and I completely understand when writers take prompts or requests, since it can be a good way to exercise one’s creativity and get one out of a writing slump, as well as be a fun way of practicing writing different things. Maybe one day I will take prompts or requests, if I feel like it. However, at this point, I do not take requests or prompts, as I’ve made clear. If you want to commission me, I’m willing to write whatever the heck you want, because I’m creating it for you in exchange for money (or trade).
> 
> To be clear, I’m not calling this person out for asking if I take requests, but for coming to me after I’ve stated that I don’t take requests and ‘prompting’ something anyway (if it is in fact the same person). This is rude and entitlement at its finest. Thinking that because I provide the general public with some free content of my own volition I should provide all content for free is just insulting.
> 
> I’m perfectly willing to take commissions, and heck, I’m perfectly willing to negotiate prices if you really want something and I think it’s a neat idea, but don’t come to me with a ‘prompt’ or ‘request’ after I told you that I don’t take either.
> 
> So don’t come to me with your “You can have fun with this idea” bullshit. I didn’t ask you for your idea, nor did I want it. You came to me with it, like you somehow expect me to write it anyway just because. I’m not interested and never indicated that I was. Don’t come to me begging for something for free when I already told you it was on sale.
> 
> (If these are two separate people, I apologize for making this into a ThingTM, but it’s been bugging me for a few days and I think I’m not the only writer who’s had to deal with this kind of garbage. Don’t be fucking rude.)


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M BACK. School totally ate me alive and I didn't have as much time to write as I would have liked. I finally got my shit together though. I've got maybe two more chapters to this fic, and then I'm going to take a break.

Conner quickly came to look forward to every day he spent at Mount Justice, even asking Clark if they could go on days when he didn’t work, just to see everyone. He enjoyed hanging out with the team, and they liked him just as much, something that seemed to make Clark very happy.

Kaldur was quickly becoming Kon’s primary babysitter. He was preternaturally calm and patient with Kon, always taking the time to sit and explain something when Kon didn’t understand. He even took the time to teach Kon to swim, taking him out to the beach and introducing him to the water.

“I could drown,” Kon said, standing at the edge of the water with trepidation.

“You will not drown,” Kaldur said with a patient smile, “I will not let you come to any harm in the water. Besides, if you do not learn how to swim, one day you  _ might _ drown.”

Kon had frowned at Kaldur, unimpressed by his logic, but had tentatively waded into the water anyway. Kaldur stuck close by, ready to step in if he was needed. Slowly, Kon managed to get to the point where he was up to his chest in the water, when Kaldur switched tactics.

“Now, let’s go underwater,” Kaldur said, “Take a deep breath and duck under with me.”

Kon scowled up at him, “Shouldn’t I learn to swim  _ before _ I go under?”

“If you learn not to be afraid of the water first, the rest will come much smoother,” Kaldur explained, dropping down to his knees so he was also chest deep in the water, “Ready?”

Kon nodded and took a deep breath. He pinched his nose and let Kaldur gently pull him under. The water swallowed them both up, and Kon had an instant of panic before his eyes adjusted to being underwater and he saw Kaldur’s face in front of him, smiling as they floated in the current. Kon smiled back and relaxed, the panic receding to enjoyment at the feeling of the water washing over his skin and playfully tugging at his hair.

When Kon’s lungs began to burn from lack of air, they resurfaced, “See? Not so bad at all,” Kaldur said, still smiling.

They’d spent the rest of the day in the water, Kon slowly learning how to swim until he was confident in the water. When he asked about learning swimming techniques, like the back stroke or breast stroke, Kaldur had rolled his eyes and said that technique wasn’t important (Kon would learn later that Atlanteans had little patience for ‘proper’ swimming techniques that humans learned).

Robin was probably Kon’s second favourite on the team. He seemed a little younger than the others, or maybe he was just smaller, but either way, he loved to play with Kon. Every day he’d have something new for them to do. Hide and Seek was a favourite to play, as well as Tag and all manner of sports, which the rest of the team would often join (Wally loved Tag and any game where speed was an advantage). He also decided that it was a good idea to try and teach Kon how to ‘fly’, just in case he could never fly like Superman.

“It’s called the flying trapeze,” Robin explained, showing Kon how to set up the equipment, “You grab one bar and swing to the next. If you get really good, you can do flips and stuff.”

“Are you really good?” Kon asked, climbing up behind Robin.

Robin turned to him a grinned widely, “The  _ best _ . My family used to be in the circus and we travelled the world putting on shows for everyone.”

Kon’s eyes widened, impressed, “Wow, that’s really amazing,” he said, “Why did you stop?”

Robin stiffed, “Stop?” he asked, though it didn’t sound much like a question.

“Yeah. If you guys were so good, how come you stopped? Did you and your family need to stop because you became Robin?” Kon asked.

Robin didn't answer, and his face became very sad behind his mask. He turned away and ran his hand over the bar that was hooked to the side of the platform. He seemed lost somehow, though they hadn’t moved and were clearly still in the training deck of Mount Justice. Kon suddenly felt like he shouldn’t have asked.

After a long minute, Robin let out a long sigh and turned back to Kon, smiling again, though it was different kind of smile, “Come on, let me show you how to fly,” he said.

Kon had learned enough to know that Robin was avoiding talking to him about something, but he’d also learned that it probably wasn’t okay to keep pestering him about it. Instead, he followed Robin’s lead and learned how to do a basic swing on the flying trapeze. He didn’t enjoy it as much as swimming, and he still really wanted to fly for real one day, but Robin seemed to have fun, so once a week they went up to the trapeze and practiced.

Wally was also a lot of fun. He was one of the only people on the team who could keep up with Kon’s energy levels and was therefore in charge of ‘tiring Kon out’ when it was necessary. He often joined Kon and Robin’s games, but also brought out video games and sometimes would just pick Kon up and run with him somewhere, just to show him something or somewhere cool. They ran around the Grand Canyon once, just because Wally was feeling cooped up and needed to blow off some steam.

“So? What do you think?” Wally asked as they walked through the streets of Honolulu, eating ice cream.

“It’s nice,” Kon said, “Very sunny and warm.”

“It  _ is _ nice,” Wally said, eyes trailing after a couple of girls in bathing suits, “ _ Very _ nice.”

Kon rolled his eyes, “You’re being a perv,” he pointed out.

Wally’s jaw dropped, “Who even told you about that word?”

“Roy,” Kon said, licking his ice cream, “Can we go down to the beach?”

Wally muttered something indistinct, but reached down to take Kon’s hand so lead him through the streets down to the beach, buying them both another ice cream when they finished the ones they had.

“We’re going to spoil our dinner,” Kon said, even as he took to ice cream and gave it a lick.

“Nah, we’ll be fine. We’re a speedster and a Kryptonian, we need to eat a lot,” Wally said, “But don't tell Kaldur I bought you two ice creams. He’ll yell at me for spoiling you.”

“You didn't have to get me a second ice cream,” Kon said.

“True,” Wally conceded. He ruffled Kon’s hair, “But I like spoiling you.”

Roy was a little different from the other three boys and didn't ‘play’ with Kon at all. He seemed to be angry all the time about weird things, but the other boys said it was just Roy’s personality. At first he simply ignored or avoided Kon, though Kon caught him giving an absent pat to Krypto once or twice (one time he was sure he saw Roy slip Krypto a piece of bacon from his plate). After about two weeks he simply seemed to accept that Kon was going to hang around whether he liked it or not and now tolerated Kon’s presence. Roy was even starting to talk to Kon a little, mostly about Krypto.

“I never had a dog,” Roy said, watching Kon play tug-o’-war with Krypto. He’d tried to play, but the Superdog had simply dragged him around.

“Do you want one?” Kon asked, managing to get the toy from Krypto and toss it around, Krypto letting excited yips as he chased after it.

Roy shrugged, “Don’t have the time for a dog,” he said, “And Green’s allergic.”

“You could have a robot dog,” Kon said, “Nothing to be allergic to.” He’d learned that Roy was actually really good at mechanical things, and liked to tinker and make new arrows for fun.

Roy huffed out a laugh, “Now there’s an idea. I could program it to fetch my arrows back for me.”

“And no poop,” Kon said, wrinkling his nose, “Robots don’t poop.”

Roy let out a more genuine laugh that time, “Not unless you make them,” he said, a mischievous glint in his eye.

“Why would you make it poop?” Kon asked, dodging out of the way as Krypto nearly barreled into him.

Roy shrugged, “Piss someone off?” he said.

Kon just regarded Roy strangely, “You’re weird,” he said.

Roy only shrugged again, already pulling out a piece of paper and starting to scribble something down. Kon managed to sneak a look later and it was a half-serious blueprint of a robotic dog, with the most complete part of it being a little compartment for poop. Roy was weird, and with a weird sense of humor, but Kon liked him anyway.

Things came a lot slower with Megan after the first day. For a long time, Kon couldn't even be alone in the same room as her at first, terrified that she might try to get into his head again. One time he woke up from a nap on the couch to find Megan watching him with a sad expression on her face and he ran crying to Kaldur. After that, she’d left him alone, only giving him forlorn looks from across rooms when the whole team was together.

Eventually, however, Kon came to realize that Megan wasn’t trying to get into his head, but only trying to gain his forgiveness, though completely clueless as to how to get it. Slowly, Kon stopped being so skittish around her, coming to realize that she was very similar to him in that she was so very new to earth and just didn't understand how things worked sometimes.

“Hi Superboy,” Megan said softly, coming around the side of Kon so he could see her, but keeping a distance, “Do you mind if I use the kitchen?”

Kon was sitting on the couch watching cartoons on the TV set that was attached to the kitchen, Krypto sprawled across his lap. Wally had been sitting with them earlier, but he’d gotten too antsy and needed to get up to run, so Kon was alone for the moment.

Scratching Krypto behind the ear, Kon watched Megan for a moment. She looked hopeful, smiling at him and not getting nearer to him than was necessary.

“Alright,” Kon said eventually. It should be fine if she was just using the kitchen, and Krypto was there to protect him (they'd found that Megan couldn't read Krypto’s mind at all).

Megan smiled brightly at him, “Thank you! I promise I won't be loud,” she said, then floated off to the kitchen to try her hand at cookies again.

Kon turned back to his cartoons, but kept one ear on Megan behind him. When he didn't hear anything but the clatter of bowls and ingredients for several minutes, he relaxed and refocused on his cartoons. Krypto remained completely relaxed and calm, so Kon figured he had nothing to worry about.

Soon, the smell of fresh baked cookies filled the air, “Kon?” Megan called softly, like she was afraid to startle him, “Would you like a cookie?”

Kon looked over his shoulder, “Sure,” he said. He made to get up, but Krypto was heavy and too comfortable to move.

The dilemma was solved when Megan floated two cookies on a plate and a glass of milk over to Kon, “Thank you,” he said, taking the plate a glass from the air where they were suspended.

Megan smiled shyly and took up her own cookie to munch on. Kon watched her stand at the counter for a minute, “You can come sit over here, if you want,” he called.

Surprised by his statement, Megan looked up sharply, “Are you sure?” she asked, shocked.

Kon nodded, “It seems a little silly for you to stand at the counter and eat your cookies,” he said, turning back around so he could take a bite of his cookie.

“ . . . Alright,” Megan said cautiously. Kon could hear her walk towards the couch and saw her sit on the other side of it just in his peripheral vision. Krypto glanced up, but didn't otherwise react and quickly fell back asleep.

The three of them sat that way for a while, watching Kon’s cartoon and eating cookies. Megan made no move to get closer to Kon and Kon sat calmly and paid more attention to the TV, despite the tension in the air.

About an hour later, Kon woke up from a nap, not sure at what point he’d fallen asleep. There’s a cookie on a plate in front of him (covered in case Krypto tried to get at it) and a blanket draped over him. Kon decided that he was too comfy to move, taking the cookie and eating it quickly before he settled back down to sleep again.

Kon was a little sour about being left behind when the team went on missions, but this was on area in which everyone but Kon seemed to be in agreement on. Kon was too young and too inexperienced to go on missions with the others.

“I can help,” Kon insisted, all but pouting up at Kaldur.

Kaldur laid a gentle hand on Kon’s head, tangling his fingers into the curly black locks, “You will help one day Superboy,” he said, “But for now, you need to train until you’re ready to join us.”

Kon huffed, annoyed that his pleading hadn’t worked, and he was once again stuck behind with Red Tornado, Black Canary, and Batman. None of them were so bad, but Kon hated to feel left out.

The one upside was that Black Canary had deemed it appropriate to start training Kon. Clark had agreed that it was probably best to start training him early, so he would be well prepared by the time he was ready to join the team on missions. It wasn’t anything as intense as what she did with the team, but it was giving him a ground to start on.

“Put your stance a little wider,” Canary instructed, “Bend your knees.”

Kon did as he was told, “Like this?”

Canary smiled, “Perfect. This way you’ll be harder to knock over.”

Kon raised an eyebrow, “But I’m going to be strong like Superman, why should I have to know this stuff?”

Canary chuckled, “Because there are people like me who have trained to fight against bigger stronger guys like you.” She ruffled his hair, “And not all of them are nice like me.”

Kon grumbled and swatted her hand away, “Does Superman know how to fight like this?”

“Nope. So one day, when you have all of his powers, you're gonna be able to kick his butt,” Canary said, grinning.

Kon blinked, eyes lighting up at the realization, “Cool.”

As the days and weeks turned into months and the weather warmed into summer, Kon settled into the routine of coming to Mount Justice. He knew that eventually he’d have to start going to school (which was all at once an exciting and terrifying idea), but for now he just enjoyed spending time with the team. Kon was learning so much so quickly that some days he had to stop and count the days that he’d been out of his pod.

“Sixty days,” Conner said one night while he and Clark were having their nightly talk.

“What’s that?” Clark asked, tucking Conner into his bed (brand new and in his own room).

“That’s how many days it’s been,” Conner said, “Since I woke up.”

“Oh, I see,” Clark said, picking Wolf up from the floor and handing him to Conner, “It’s been pretty crazy huh?”

Conner nodded, “But I’ll tell you a secret,” he said.

Clark raised an eyebrow, “Oh yeah? What’s the secret?” he asked.

Conner motioned for Clark to come closer so he could whisper in his ear, “I’m glad I woke up,” he said, keeping quiet in case someone might hear.

Clark pulled back and smiled, “I’m glad you woke up too, Conner,” he said. He leaned forward and kissed Conner on the forehead, “Goodnight Conner.”

“G’night Clark,” Conner said, turning over and settling down into his bed. Truthfully he missed sleeping in Clark’s bed with him, but it was nice to have his own room.

Conner heard Clark chuckle, then he turned the lights off, leaving Conner to sleep.

* * *

It was a scorching hot day, and the team and Kon had spent most of the day on the beach, cooling off in the water or just lazing around on the sand. Even Krypto was a little lethargic from the heat, only running around for an hour and a half rather than his usual two. Kon didn’t mind the sunshine so much, or the heat. He was actually the most energetic out of everyone.

“We should probably head back inside soon,” Robin said, making no move to get up from where he was sitting under an umbrella.

“Yeah,” Wally agreed, “I’ve probably got a million more freckles and Roy looks like he’s going to start cooking soon.”

Roy flicked sand at Wally, “Fuck off.”

“Swear jar,” Kon said from where he was constructing a sand castle with Kaldur and Megan.

Wally snorted and Roy grumbled something under his breath. Kaldur packed more sand into the red plastic bucket, “We should head back soon though,” he said, “Superman will be coming to collect Kon soon.”

“It is starting to get a little late,” Megan agreed, resting seashells against the already constructed towers of sand, “We should go in and clean up a little.”

With a few more sighs and groans and puttering around, they eventually packed their things up and headed back towards the entrance to the HQ, though at a sedate pace. Even Wally was walking slowly, yawning into his hand and stretching. Kon walked along contentedly, one hand resting on Krypto’s back.

Once they were rinsed of sand and changed back into their regular clothes (aside from Kaldur), they wandered in the direction of the Zeta Beams to wait for Superman. Upon arrival however, they spotted Red Tornado in front of the large screens. On them, Superman and several other League members were fighting a large robot/monster thing (cyborg monster?) in one of the lower districts of Metropolis.

“I’m guessing the big guy will be late,” Wally said, walking up to the screens, “So, alien or experiment? Who wants to place bets?”

“The monster parts look alien, but the robot parts are vaguely familiar, so I’m going to go with experimented on alien,” Roy said.

Kon watched Superman on screen, enraptured. He loved watching Superman in action. Something inside him yearned to join him in the sky, to rush in and save people like he was meant to. It somehow felt wrong that he was stuck on the ground. He flinched slightly when a tentacle-like limb came around and smacked Superman out of the air, sending him crashing through several buildings.

An alert popped up through one of the screens, “The Justice League is requesting all hands,” Red Tornado said, reading the alert, “Including yours to minimize collateral damage and civilian casualties.”

“Woah, is this going to be our first team-up with the League? Sweetness!” Wally cheered, eyes bright.

“Metropolis is being destroyed Kid Flash,” Red Tornado chastised, “I suggest you all suit up.”

As Wally, Robin, and Roy darted off to change (Kaldur and Megan not needing to), Kon turned from the screens, “What about me?” he asked.

“You should probably stay here,” Kaldur said.

“We can’t leave him alone,” Megan protested, “It’s not safe for him to be alone.”

“In a secret HQ? I think Superboy will be fine,” Wally said, reappearing in full costume.

“Superboy shall remain here,” Red Tornado said, “There is no reason to return him to Metropolis at this time, nor is it wise to attempt it.”

Kon frowned, “I can help,” he insisted.

Kaldur gave him a patient smile, “You are very courageous for wanting to help, Superboy, but you will still have to wait until you are old enough to join the team,” he said, laying a hand on his shoulder.

Kon grumbled, annoyed at being thwarted yet again. He stood by and watched as the others made plans and strategized. As they readied to leave, Kaldur approached him again.

“Will you be alright here alone, Superboy?” he asked.

Kon nodded, “I’ll be okay,” he said, “I’m not a baby or anything.”

Kaldur smiled, “No, you are not. We will return as soon as we are able,” he said, bending down to press his forehead against Kon’s (the Atlantean version of a hug, he was told).

“Be safe okay?” Kon said, trying not to sound pleading.

“We will try our best,” Kaldur said. He patted Kon on the head once before going to join the others. They all waved Kon goodbye before they stepped into the Zeta beam, leaving Kon alone in the HQ.

Kon let out a long sigh, wondering what he should do. He brought up the screens again and watched the news play footage of the fight in Metropolis. Krypto came up beside Kon and nudged into his side, whining for attention.

“Looks like a pretty big fight,” Kon said to the dog, reaching over to scratch behind his ears, “That’s a really big monster.”

On the screen, the monster flung a giant tentacle around and crashed it into the side of a building. Kon winced, thinking of all the people that might still be inside.

“They’re never going to be able to help everyone,” Kon said, “It’s just so much.”

On a smaller screen, Kon could see a collapsed building, and a bunch of people trying to dig it out, pulling people from the rubble. Kon hardly blinked as he watched a little girl, limp and covered in blood be carried off, her blonde curls matted grey with dust.

“I have to help,” Kon said determinedly, “If I don't help, I’m just as bad as the bad guy.”

Leaving the screens up, Kon walked over to the Zeta beam, but stopped. He couldn’t use it without someone else, and his emergency code would send a message straight to Superman and Batman that he’d used it, and they’d probably come get him and keep him from helping. Grumbling, Kon turned away from the Zeta beam and paced around the room. The hard floor clicked under Krypto’s nails as he followed his boy around, concerned by his agitated state.

Kon stopped and turned, “Krypto!” he exclaimed, “You can fly us to Metropolis!”

Krypto barked and wagged his tail, not sure why his boy was suddenly so excited, but happy for it all the same, “Come on!” Kon said, running off to the other exit, “We have to hurry!”

They reached the back door went outside into the trees. Kon skidded to a stop on the grass and wrapped his arms around Krypto’s neck, “Fly us to Metropolis Krypto,” he commanded.

Krypto tilted his head, then licked Kon’s face, causing him to sputter, “No, Krypto!” Kon groaned, “Fly!”

Hearing the command, Krypto immediately lifted up, pulling Kon along with him. KOn tightened his grip so he wouldn’t slip and gave Krypto a pat, “Good dog. Now, go to Metropolis,” he said, “Metropolis Krypto!”

Krypto barked and lurched forward into the sky, nearly dropping Kon. Kon held as tightly as he could and buried his face into Krypto’s fur against the wind. Metropolis wasn't too far away, so they wouldn't have to fly long.

Superboy was going to help, just like he was meant to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Superboy is going to help! . . . maybe.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit did I ever crank this one out. I'm really surprised with myself. I think it helped that I put on a playlist of Superhero soundtracks to listen to while I wrote, because damn if those aren't some motivational beats.

Kon and Krypto touched down in Metropolis about half an hour later some distance away from the main battle. Kon let go of Krypto’s neck and shook his arms to get the feeling back into them. He looked around, trying to figure out where to start.

“How am I going to find the people who need help?” Kon asked aloud, glancing around at the rubble surrounding him. This wasn't an area that the rescue teams had been able to move to yet. He didn't even know if there were people in this area.

As Kon pondered what his next step was, Krypto’s ears perked up and he trotted off to a collapsed building, sniffing the air. He barked and darted up to the mound of rubble, starting to dig. Kon hurried after him, heart pounding a little. As he got closer, he heard a tiny fluttering noise. If he concentrated, he could pick out several distinct patterns of flutters, fast and anxious, but steady.

Heartbeats. Kon was hearing heartbeats.

“Hey!” Kon called when he got to where Krypto was digging, “Is anybody down there?”

Kon strained his ears, trying to focus his attention down where the heartbeats were. At first he didn't hear anything else, but then, a child’s voice, “Is someone there?”

“I’m here!” Kon called, “Stay where you are, I’ll get you out!” He started to pull larger bits of debris out of the way, straining a little under the weight at first, but quickly getting into the flow of things.

After about two minutes, Kon could see four sets of terrified eyes staring up at him through the rubble, “Hold on!” Kon called, trying to figure out how to get the last large slab of concrete off of them. Wedging himself into the little space where he could see through, he got his shoulder under the slab and lifted, groaning under the weight. For a minute, the slab refused to move, but then Krypto joined in, grabbing a piece of rebar sticking out from one side in his mouth and flying up, pulling as he went. The little peep-hole widened into a great maw large enough for the children to wiggle through.

“Hurry up!” Kon commanded them. Four little children scurried out, one of them cradling a toddler against his chest. Kon listened for anyone else, but he heard nothing and let the slab drop.

“Everyone okay?” Kon asked, climbing down from the rubble heap, “Is anyone hurt?”

“Muh-muh-my foot,” one little girl sobbed out, her chest heaving. All the children seemed to be around five or six, aside from the toddler, who was starting to stir in the boy’s arms.

Kon knelt down to look at the girl’s bare foot. There was a large scrape over her ankle, and a large swath of skin was peeled back, but thankfully there was no bon showing.

“Get up on Superdog’s back, he can carry you,” Kon said, standing up.

“Who are you?” one of the boys asked, “How’d you lift that?”

“I’m Superboy,” Kon answered, “And this is Krypto the Superdog,” he said, scratching the dog’s ear. He smiled at the girl, “So don't worry, you won’t hurt his back.”

The girl looked at Krypto through her tears and managed a shaky smile. Krypto lolled his tongue out and wagged his tail, making the girl smile more and her tears slow down. Kon helped her get up on his back.

“Come on, I’ll help you find some adults who can take care of you,” Kon said, “Everyone else can walk okay?”

Receiving a series of nods, Kon led them away, listening for heartbeats and voices. He knew he couldn't tote the kids around for long, he had to get back to rescuing, but he couldn't just leave them on their own. He had to find an adult or a big kid to take care of them and get them to safety.

The sound of a voice made Kon stop and listen. He closed his eyes and tried to make his super hearing work better, like Clark had told him to practice. He took a deep breath and concentrated, trying to focus on just his hearing.

The voice called again, “Please! Someone help!” a lady’s voice rang out, along with intermittent coughing, “Please! I’m stuck!”

“This way,” Kon said, taking off. The kids ran after him, nervous but wanting to stay close to their saviour.

Kon found where the voice was coming from, “Miss!” he called into the rubble, “Can you hear me?”

“Hello?” the woman called, “Hello? Who’s there?”

“Stay still miss! We’ll get you out!” Kon called. He turned to the children, “Stay back okay, you might get hurt.”

“What about you?” the little girl with the hurt ankle asked.

Kon lifted her off Krypto’s back and let the other little girl help her sit, “I told you, I’m Superboy. You don’t have to worry about me.”

Making sure the children were far enough away that they wouldn't be hurt by falling debris, Kon and Krypto got to work clearing away the wreckage. Eventually, they cleared enough away that Kon could see the woman stuck down in a kind of pit.

“Hey miss!” he called, “Can you climb up?”

The woman looked up at him, surprised to see such a young rescuer, “Um, maybe a little, but not the whole way,” she said.

Kon cleared away some more of the detritus from the little hole and leaned in, sticking his hand out, “Can you reach?” he asked.

The woman blinked, “Will you be able to lift me?” she asked, even as she started scaling the side of the pit. She got a few feet up before there wasn’t anything else to grab. Kon reached down and managed to get a firm grasp on her wrist, the same grab that Robin had shown him when they flew on the trapeze, which was the most secure hold. He pulled and lifted the woman out of the pit, causing her to yelp a little as she was pulled upwards by a ten year old child. Kon kept his hold on her wrist until they managed to crawl out of the hole.

“How did you _do_ that?” the woman asked as they made their way down to the street.

“He’s Superboy!” the little boy holding the toddler cried, “He’s just like Superman!”

“Super . . . boy?” the woman repeated looking down at Kon, “I . . . I mean, okay?”

“Can you get these kids somewhere safe?” Kon asked her, “I have to go help more people.”

The woman looked at the kids and then back at Kon, “Um, alright,” she said, clearly not knowing what else to do.

Kon gave her a nod, “Thanks! I saw on the news that there are ambulances and stuff on Gillan street, which is that way just a few blocks—” he pointed, “If you go that way, you should find them.”

“ . . . Alright,” the woman said, a little more sure now. She didn't quite get what was going on, but she could figure out that Kon was not a normal child.

Kon lifted the little girl with the hurt ankle up and handed her to the woman, “I have to go and help more people, so I won’t go with you. Don’t stop unless you have to!” he called over his shoulder as he ran back towards Krypto so they could continue their search.

“Thank you Superboy!” the little girl called, sparking the others to call out their own thanks. Kon felt his chest swell with delight, but he focussed on his hearing, trying to find more people who needed his help. There would be time to feel good about helping after he was done.

Kon searched around for maybe two hours, pulling people and pets out of buildings and leading or carrying them to safety. He spent a good chunk of time helping an animal shelter get all of the animals that were still alive out of a rapidly flooding building. Krypto seemed to have some sway over the animals and they followed him out of the basement where the kennels were kept. All of them aside from one box of kittens than Kon carried over his head while the water surged to his chest.

There was one building where most of the people were trapped on the fourth floor, unable to get down any further. Kon managed to hold up part of a staircase while the troupe of people hurried down, amazed by this seemingly miracle child.

“Thank you little boy,” an elderly man said as Kon carried him down the steps of the apartment he was trapped in, unable to navigate the stairs with his oxygen tank, “What are you?”

“I’m Superboy,” Kon said, trying to keep track of where his feet were. Behind him, Krypto delicately carried the tank in his mouth, “There are other people on the street, someone should be able to help you.”

“I didn’t know Superman had a son,” the man said, “He must be very proud of you.”

Kon didn't know what to say to that, so he kept silent. He got the man out of the building and passed him off to two teenaged boys who were making their way to Gillan street with the rest of the people Kon had managed to get out of the building.

Kon watched them for a moment, then turned back to Krypto, “Come on boy, our work’s not done yet.”

* * *

Lois had worked as a journalist all her adult life, and she was no stranger to disaster. Her natural reaction to a giant monster attack was to head straight towards it and try to find out the whys and whats and whos and so forth. Dangerous? Absolutely, but someone had to get the story out.

Lois arrived on Gillan street, recorder in hand and notebook and pencil tucked away in her chest pocket just in case. She wanted to get closer to the action, but she could still see in the distance the monster fighting, so it wasn't a good idea. Until then, she could get statements from the people caught in the mayhem.

“Excuse me,” she said, getting the attention of a young woman wrapped in an orange shock blanket, “Hi, what’s your name?”

The woman looked up at her, “Alissa,” she said, “Are you another paramedic?”

“I’m a reporter,” Lois said, sitting next to her to be as non-threatening as possible, “Can you tell me what you saw?”

“Of the monster? Not much,” Alissa said, “I was down in the basement when the whole church just collapsed almost on top of me. I was down there for maybe an hour before I was pulled out.”

“Which church, Saint Florentine’s?” Lois asked.

Alissa shook her head, “Our Lady of Hope, up on Connaught Avenue.”

“Connaught?” Lois asked, “I didn’t know the crews made it that far up.”

“It wasn't a crew that got me out. It was—” Alissa stopped, seeming to stall on what to say.

“Alissa? Who pulled you out?” Lois prompted, morphing her voice to the perfect amount of encouraging without sounding pushy.

“It was Superboy,” Alissa said quickly, like she almost couldn't believe it herself, “Superboy saved me.”

“Superboy? You mean Superman?” Lois asked, raising an eyebrow.

Alissa shook her head, “No, I mean Super _boy_. A little ten year old kid pulled me out of the church basement with one hand, just lifted me right out. He had a dog with him. A Superdog. He said he was Superboy and his dog was Superdog.”

“Superboy and Superdog?” Lois repeated, trying very hard not to sound skeptical.

“I know it sounds crazy, but it’s true,” Alissa said, “Ask around, a bunch of people will tell you the same thing.”

Lois did just that, and found maybe four dozen people who all had a similar story of a little ten year old boy and a large white dog who saved them, claiming to be Superboy and his trusty hound Superdog.

“He was just a sweet boy,” one lady fussing over a tank said, “He saved my turtles. Crews never save turtles.”

“He lifted a huge slab of concrete off of my buddy,” a teenager told Lois, “This thing must have weighed a million pounds, and he just picked it up off Danny! Just whoosh! I thought I’d gone crazy!”

“Spitting image of Superman, I tell ya,” a middle aged man said, rocking his crying twin daughters, “I never knew the big guy had a son. Boy am I glad he does. Kid saved me an’ my girls an’ ran back in for old Mr. Smythe.”

Faced with so many corroborating stories, Lois had to face the fact that ‘Superboy’ was real and he was helping people. This could be huge, not only as a story, but also for her exposé on Superman. Superman having a son? No one had had any clue until this moment, and Lois was perfectly poised to break the story.

Slipping passed the police guarding the way up to the streets was child’s play for a seasoned veteran like her, and she bolted through the side streets, making her way to where Superboy had last been seen. Every so often Lois passed another straggler making their way towards the crews. When she took the time to stop and ask them what happened, they all had the same story.

“Superboy saved us.”

Eventually she found her way to Dillard boulevard where Superboy had last been seen, one street over from Connaught. At first, she couldn't see anyone at all, and wondered if the boy had moved on. Then she heard barking from a few buildings down and headed towards that. She arrived at the stoop of an apartment block just as a group of people came down, some carrying those that had been hurt, a large white dog leading them. Lois watched as they all came out into the street, milling about for a second before a little boy came out behind them, carrying a grown man on his back. Lois couldn't get a good look at the boy through the crowd, but his voice was strangely familiar as he told them all to head toward Gillan where the crews were. The crowd began to disperse and Lois saw Superboy put the man down so he could be helped by another lady. Lois wedged her way through the crowd to get a better look and finally caught a clear look at the boy, then stopped, mind going blank.

“Conner?” she said in disbelief.

Conner looked up, startled to hear his name. Lois almost didn't believe it for a moment; it couldn't be Conner, Clark’s son and the little kid she’d played with (they’d played ‘Superman’ so many times). But the disbelief faded and suddenly Lois’s mind began to race, putting lines of thought together so fast she felt a little dizzy.

“Ms. Lane?” Conner asked, looking a little nervous, “What are you doing here?”

“Holy fucking shit,” Lois said, “Ho-ly shit!”

“Swear jar,” Conner said, and Lois let out a hysterical giggle.

“I can’t believe I was so fucking stupid. Of course. Of fucking course!” she cried, pacing around, “Of course it was right in front of my nose this whole time. I’m so fucking stupid.”

“You shouldn’t call yourself stupid Ms. Lane, and swear jar,” Conner said, watching her with concern, “Did you hit your head? Do you need to sit down?”

Conner’s concern made Lois stop and look back at him. He was covered in dust and dirt, and he looked like he’d been submerged in chest deep water at some point. There was no way he wasn't the boy everyone was talking about, chasing any lingering doubts from Lois’s mind.

“Conner,” she asked calmly, “Are you Superboy?”

Conner blinked, then flushed red and hid his hands behind his back, the same gesture she’d seen him do when he’d been asked if he’d taken three cookies instead of two, “No,” he lied, not meeting her eyes.

“Right,” Lois said, running a hand through her hair, “And Clark is Superman?”

“No!” Conner exclaimed. Realizing that he’d been caught out, Conner darted up to her and gripped the front of her shirt, “Please don’t tell Ms. Lane! It’s supposed to be a secret! I’ll be in so much trouble if you tell!”

Lois looked down at Conner, watching the tears swim in his eyes, “I . . . I’m not going to tell, Conner,” she said, wondering if she was the one lying now.

“Promise?” Conner asked, eyes still full of fear.

“I promise,” Lois said, resting her hands on Conner’s shoulders and pulling him close for a hug.

Conner wrapped his arms around her waist and pressed his head into her sternum. Lois sighed and brought one hand up to pet his hair, trying to figure out the warm feeling in her chest. The son of the man she loved, the boy she had grown to deeply care for, Superboy.

Conner pulled back eventually, “I have to keep helping, there are more people trapped,” he said.

Lois’s brain started to come back online, “Does your dad know you’re out here?” she asked.

Conner flushed again, “I have to help!” he insisted, “If I don't do anything, I’m just letting people get hurt!”

Lois felt a wave of sympathy, “Conner, I understand you want to help, but you know you're still a kid right? You could get hurt.”

“I’m fine,” Conner said, “I’m being careful and Krypto is with me.” He held his hand out to gesture the large white dog—Krypto the Superdog—towards him. Krypto wagged his tail and trotted forward, sniffing at Lois.

Lois smiled and let the dog sniff her, “That’s all well and good Conner, but I don’t think your dad is going to be very happy that you're out here. The crews will be here any minute to help people.”

“So we can move into the next area to help,” Conner said, and Lois didn't know what to say. How could she tell this little boy, who only wanted to help people, that he should sit out just because he was too young?

“Conner . . .” Lois started, not sure what she was going to say, “I know you want to help, but you’re going to get hurt on your own out here,” she said, “It’s not safe.”

Conner grumbled, “Everyone always says that, but I’m invulnerable. I can’t get hurt.”

Lois was about to try again, say something else to try and get Conner off the streets (she didn’t think she’d be able to physically move him, not with how strong he seemed to be), when a sleek black SUV pulled up. Lois immediately tensed up, knowing a bad situation from a mile off.

“Conner, get behind me,” Lois said, reaching for the boy. Krypto’s hackles rose and he started to growl, ear flattening against his head.

Conner, realizing that something was going on, did as he was told and stepped closer to Lois, though not behind her. He wanted to be ready just in case he needed to protect her.

One of the doors of the SUV opened and a figure stepped out of it; Lois didn’t get a good look at them before they raised their arm and a dart came shooting at Lois (did they have a weapon?). The dart struck Lois in the chest and she immediately felt dizzy and collapsed. The last thing she was aware of was the sound of Conner calling out to her and the sight of a well dressed bald man getting out of the car before she plunged into blackness.

* * *

 

“Ms. Lane!” Conner cried, shaking her shoulder, trying to get her to wake up. He could hear her heart beating, so she was only asleep, but he was worried for her.

Conner looked up at the man who’d stepped out of the car and was walking towards him. He was tall, wearing a very nice suit, and completely bald. There was something in his eyes that seemed, if not cold, then flat, unemotional and unreadable. Conner fought the urge to shiver and cower under that gaze.

“What did you do to Ms. Lane?” Conner asked, proud of himself for not letting his voice quaver.

The man stared down at him for a moment, studying him. Then he smiled, something that looked out of place on a face as severe as his. He probably meant to out Conner at ease, but it only made Conner more uneasy, “Hello Superboy, My name is Lex Luthor. I’ve been looking for you.”

Conner tensed, a cold feeling settling in his stomach, “How do you know who I am?” he asked.

The man—Luthor—stepped a little closer, only to make Krypto growl louder. He eyed the dog with disdain, but didn’t step back, “I’ve known about you since before you were made Superboy. I was the one who had you made.”

“I was made by Cadmus,” Conner said, though it sounded a little more questioning than he’d have liked it to.

“Because I asked them to,” Luthor said, “I even donated my DNA to make you.”

Conner’s eyes widened, and Luthor smiled again, “That’s right Superboy, you’re my son,” he said, “So, why don't you come along with me? There’s a lot I want to talk to you about.”

Conner glanced back towards Lois’ prone form on the ground. Luthor sighed, sounding a little impatient, “She’ll be fine. The drug should wear off in an hour or two. Now come along.” It sounded more like an order this time.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Conner said, taking a step back, “I’m not supposed to go anywhere with people I don't know.”

Luthor let out a long sigh, looking disappointed with a touch of anger, “I wanted to do this the nice way. Remember that I did give you a chance,” he said. He turned to the woman that had been standing behind him next to the car, almost motionless the entire time they had been speaking, “Mercy, if you please?”

The woman took two steps forward before Krypto started barking at her, leaping in front of Conner to shield him. Conner put one hand on Krypto’s flank, about to tell him to take them away, but then he remembered Lois. Krypto wouldn't be able to carry him and Lois at the same time, and there was no way he could leave her here with this strange man.

This moment of hesitation was all it took, however, for Luthor to pull out a gun and aim it at the dog. Krypto, focussed on Mercy, didn’t react until too late, and he couldn’t move out of the way fast enough. He did managed to push Conner out of the way, but the bullet slammed into his side and he collapsed with a yelp of pain.

“Krypto!” Conner cried, darting forward and falling to his knees next to Krypto. The wound was bleeding sluggishly, and there was a weird green glow emanating from it that stung if Conner got too close.

Distracted, Conner didn't notice Mercy come up behind him until a collar slipped around his neck, locking into place. The collar activated and Conner felt dizzy for a moment. Mercy grabbed hold of him and began dragging him towards the SUV.

“Let go!” Conner cried, struggling in vain. Somehow he felt weaker than just a few moments ago, and he couldn’t get away from the woman. Either she was very strong or his strength had disappeared.

Mercy brought him in front of Luthor, holding both of his arms so he couldn't get away. Luthor stared down at him for a few seconds before swiftly and sharply backhanding Conner across the cheek. Conner yelped as the impact stung, it _stung_. Conner had never felt a hit like that hurt before, protected as he was by his powers. He cowered in front of Luthor, pressing back against Mercy in an attempt to get some distance.

“Just so you understand the position you’re in,” Luthor said cooly, “Now, we have a schedule to keep,” he said, turning and stalking back towards the car.

Mercy dragged Conner along, and this time Conner didn't struggle, the slap still stinging his cheek. His vision blurred as he was herded into the SUV, tears falling down his face as he silently wondered what was about to happen to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh dear.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This came surprisingly easy to me. I think because I usually have the endings in mind when I start a fic and it's mostly a matter of getting to them that I struggle with. Anyway, the last chapter should be up in two weeks or so, depending on how fast I get my essay done. It's a short essay and on a book I've read twice, so it'll probably be fine.

Lois regained consciousness slowly, her head still swirling and threatening to plunge her back into the realm of sleep. Groaning, Lois forced herself to lift her head up, eyes clearing of fog just in time to see the SUV drive away. She could see Krypto lying on the ground a few feet from her, a large red stain on his side. Conner was nowhere to be seen.

Groaning again, Lois dragged her hand to her chest, where the was a slight pricking sensation. Carefully, she grabbed hold of the end of the dart and pulled it out. The dart hadn’t actually pierced her flesh aside from a little pinprick, as it had gone through her notebook, and the many layers of paper had stopped it from fully discharging whatever drug was inside it.

Her head beginning to clear, Lois sat up and tried to make sense of her surroundings. Krypto was panting heavily and letting out little pained whimpers, and now she could see that the red staining was blood oozing out of a bullet wound in the dog’s side.

“Shit,” Lois swore, dragging herself over to Krypto’s side, “Easy boy, easy,” she tried to soothe as she leaned in to get a better look at the wound. There was a greenish glow coming from inside it, so she guessed that it was something made out of that special substance that was able to hurt Superman. It apparently worked on Superdogs as well.

“Conner?” Lois called, looking around. She couldn't see the boy, and she doubted that he would leave her and Krypto drugged and injured, even to save his own skin. She looked off in the direction of where the SUV had gone. It hadn’t sped away, just calmly driven off, confident that no one was following.

Lois gritted her teeth and tried to stand, wobbling a little as feeling only just started to return to her legs. She fell over again when a huge, rumbling crash caused the ground to shudder. In the distance, the monster that had been attacking the city had finally fallen and lay still, the Justice League having finally subdued it. Lois spotted a familiar red and blue speck in the sky, hovering over the downed creature.

She had to get to him. Lois had to get to him and tell him that Conner had been taken.

“Come on Superdog,” Lois said, kneeling next to Krypto, “Come on, we have to go.”

Krypto whined and lifted his head, only to let it flop back down. His legs twitched as he tried to follow her command, but he didn’t try to get up. He was too hurt.

Gritting her teeth, Lois looked around, hoping to find something or someone to help. In a driveway a few feet away was an orange Jeep, clean and sparkling aside from the layer of dust that had settled over everything. Lois guessed that it was less for off-roading and more for showing the status of whoever bought it. Well, it was about to be used as it was originally intended.

Hot wiring a Jeep was nothing new to Lois, though she did struggle to carry Krypto into the cab of the vehicle without hurting him further. He was heavier than she was expecting, and he wiggled in pain as he was moved.

“Just hold on pup, we’ll get you some help,” Lois said, putting him in the backseat of the Jeep. She winced at the thought of having to explain what happened to the very pristine interior of the car to the owner.

It would have to wait, however, because Lois had bigger problems right now. After adjusting the seat and buckling up, Lois floored it and sped off, barreling headfirst into probable danger, just like always.

* * *

Superman breathed a heavy sigh of relief as Batman confirmed that the creature was non-operational, whatever had been keeping it alive and swinging its tentacles into buildings no longer working. He felt a little bad, as the creature was functionally dead, but he was reassured that the poor thing hadn’t really been alive in the first place, kept moving only by the machines and circuitry throughout its body.

“Any idea where it came from?” Superman asked, touching down next to Batman, who was pulling wires out of a metal panel in the creature’s side. The wires were accompanied by an alarming amount of slimy tendon and stringy muscle looking things, making the whole thing look rather gory.

Batman seemed unphased by the carnage, “Not yet. The creature is alien, that much we know for sure, but the robotics that are holding it together are human technology. We can assume it came out of a lab of some kind.”

“Right,” Superman said, “You need me to help with anything?”

Having already turned back to his task of digging through the mix of circuitry and viscera, Batman gave a noncommittal grunt. Superman decided to take that as a ‘maybe’ and wandered off to find something a little more productive to do. The tentacles were splayed over several streets and buildings and needed to be moved, so he busied himself with that alongside Shazam and Captain Atom.

A few minutes later, the rumble of an approaching vehicle garnered Superman’s attention. An orange Jeep approached the crater where the creature lay at a considerable speed, but with careful avoidance of the larger bumps. It stopped as close as it could have possibly gotten and Superman groaned when a familiar figure stepped out of it.

“That woman is the definition of tenacious,” Captain Atom said, “You must feel special,” he said to Superman.

“You have no idea,” Superman said. He floated down a little closer to the Jeep, but didn't land, “Ms. Lane, you need to clear the area! It’s not safe!” he called down to her.

Lois looked up and him and took a deep breath, “Clark Kent, you get your lying ass down here right now!”

Superman nearly fell out the sky in shock, dropping a few feet before he managed to right himself. Around him, the other Leaguers had stopped, just as shocked as he was, and now trying to be subtle about their rubbernecking.

Superman floated down to Lois, “Ms. Lane, I don't know what you’re talking about—”

Lois waved a finger in his face, “Don’t give me that shit right now Kent, you have bigger problems.”

It was then that Superman noticed that Lois’s entire front was covered in blood, “Are you hurt?” he asked, heart picking up.

“Someone shot your dog,” Lois said, already leading him back to the Jeep where he could hear harsh panting.

“Krypto!” Superman cried, seeing the animal prostrate over the back seat, “Oh buddy what happened?”

“Someone shot him with some of that green stuff that hurts you,” Lois explained, moving out of the way as Superman pulled Krypto from the car and laid him on the pavement, “I’m not sure who.”

“I have an idea,” Superman said through gritted teeth. A kryptonite bullet was most likely the work of one bald-headed businessman with delusions of his own importance.

Batman appeared at his side, “What’s going on?” he asked, already kneeling to examine Krypto’s wound.

“Luthor shot Krypto,” Superman explained, “It’s a kryptonite bullet, I can’t reach it.”

Batman nodded and pulled a little emergency medical kit from his belt, “Hold him down while I extract the bullet.”

Superman put his hands on Krypto, one on his flank to keep him from jumping up and the other over his neck to keep him from biting (not that Krypto would bite, but he’d rather not take the chance), keeping the pressure firm but not pressing down, “It’s okay buddy, we’ll fix you up,” he soothed, still seething with anger.

“Clark?” Lois knelt down in front of him, eyes big and worried, “Whoever shot Krypto took Conner.”

Only the need to keep Krypto still kept Clark in place. His mind reeled, spinning out of control as he cycled through the different scenarios of someone (most assuredly Luthor) having Conner.

“Where?” he managed to get out, his chest constricting so painfully it felt like he’d been the one who’d been shot.

“He was picked up over on Dillard. I didn't see which way they went. They drugged me with something,” Lois said, “Black SUV, at least two people.”

“Why the hell was Conner on Dillard?” Superman snapped, his frustrated fear getting the better of him and making him angry.

“He was rescuing people, getting them out of buildings and sending them towards help,” Lois said, not reacting to his anger, “I tried to get him out of there, but he wouldn't listen to me.”

“Stubborn little—” Superman grumbled, physically restraining himself from flying off to find whatever hole Luthor had crawled into and forcibly dragging him out of it.

“Just one second,” Batman assured him, delicately working his instruments in the wound. Krypto whined and yelped, tensing under Superman’s hands like he was going to jump up.

“No Krypto, stay,” Superman ordered, pressing down a little firmer so he didn't jostle Batman’s work, “Just hold on buddy, just another minute.”

“Got it,” Batman said, his tweezers clamping onto something solid and gently pulling it out. Superman winced as the bullet was exposed, bathing them in radiation and stinging sharply.

Batman quickly tucked the bullet away in a lead lined pouch in his belt. He doused the wound in saline and dabbed it with alcohol, though it was already starting to close. Superman let Krypto loose and stood.

“I have to go,” he told Batman, almost shaking with tension.

Batman nodded solemnly, “I’ll see if I can get a satellite image of the area and see which way he went.”

“Take me along, I’ll show you where the site is,” Lois said, stepping close.

Superman wasted no time and grabbing Lois around the waist, much less gently than he normally would, but still waiting for her to put her arm around his neck to steady herself. He glanced down at Krypto, who was already shaking off the effects of the kryptonite and looked back up at Superman, ready for direction.

Keeping a steady hand on Lois’s waist, Superman took off into the sky, heading towards Dillard boulevard. Lois pointed out the site wordlessly, and Superman could see the pool of blood where Krypto had been shot. He touched down and let Lois go.

“They went that way, but I didn't see where they went from there,” she said.

Superman turned to Krypto, “Find Conner Krypto, find,” he commanded.

Krypto put his nose to the ground and started sniffing, trotting through the pool of his own blood and leaving red pawprints in his wake.

“You really think it was Luthor?” Lois asked, watching Krypto nervously.

“I’d bet on it,” Superman said tensely, waiting for Krypto to pick up the scent.

Lois laughed with a mixture of ruefulness and hysteria, “Didn’t take you for the gambling type, Clark.”

Her use of his real name made him look up, “Lois,” he said softly, “I—”

“Not the time Clark,” Lois said, putting up a hand to stop him, “You’ve got a kid to save.”

Krypto stopped and barked once, having picked up the scent trail. Superman spared Lois one last look before heading to Krypto’s side, “Get Conner, Krypto,” he commanded.

Krypto took off with a snarl, Superman following close behind. He needed to act fast if he was going to rescue Conner.

* * *

Conner wasn't in the car for very long. After a few minutes of driving through the streets, the car stopped and they all got out. Mercy kept a firm hold on his arm while Luthor tapped away at a smartphone, brows furrowed in concentration.

“The monster is down,” Luthor said, “We should hurry.”

Mercy nodded and ushered Conner out of the car faster. Conner didn't fight or struggle, too scared to think of resisting. They were at some kind of landing, a helicopter, just as black as the car, was waiting for them, it’s blades already starting to spin. The car sped off in a different direction, leaving the three of them to head towards the helicopter. Mercy lifted Conner inside and began strapping him to the seat while Luthor spoke briefly to the pilot.

“Superman will come for me,” Conner protested weakly as large noise-cancelling headphones were fitted over his ears.

“I’m certain he will,” Luthor said, across from Conner and strapping in, “He’ll certainly try at least.”

Conner didn't like the implication of that. This man had bullets that could hurt Kryptonians, and he didn't seem to like Superman much. He could really do some damage if he wanted to.

“Where are you taking me?” Conner asked, one hand coming up to fiddle with the strap across his chest.

“Somewhere safe,” Luthor assured him, looking, if not pleased, then smug.

“Cadmus?” Conner asked fearfully, thinking of the confining pods and the little creatures that invaded his head.

Luthor scoffed, “I should think not. Not after they botched everything with you,” he said, “No, we’ll be going somewhere a little more secure.”

Conner didn't think he liked the sound of that; on one hand, it wasn't Cadmus, but on the other it might be something worse. He tugged at his strap again, but Mercy reached over and grabbed his wrist tightly, yanking it away.

“Be nice Mercy,” Luthor said absently, though it didn’t sound like he cared either way.

The helicopter was now fully warmed up and ready, and lifted off the ground. Conner sucked in a breath as they ascended into the air, not liking this at all. It was nothing like flying with Superman; too loud and jolting to be comfortable, and there was no press of a warm body against his own, no sound of a steady heartbeat under a strong chest.

As they flew, Conner could see the city pass below them from out of the window. They travelled further and further away from the middle of the city where the monster, and probably Superman was. The edge of the city was quickly approaching and Conner began to feel tears in his eyes. He sobbed once and wished he had Wolf with him, if only to offer nominal comfort.

“None of that,” Luthor scolded, “Boys don’t cry like sissies.”

Conner tried to choke down his sobs, lest he bring Luthor’s ire down on him further, but he couldn't quite manage it, and kept letting out little whimpers of fright. He wanted Wolf. He wanted Krypto. He wanted to go home and stay in his bed under his blankets. He wanted to go back to the HQ with the team and to have never come out like he’d been told not to. He wanted Superman, Clark, his  _ dad _ . He wanted to be anywhere but here.

Suddenly and without any warning, the entire helicopter pitched sideways, going into a tailspin. Conner was too startled to make a noise, even as alarms sounded around him and he could hear the wind howl outside as they spun through the air. After what felt like a minute but was probably seconds, they came to a lurching stop, throwing them all against their straps uncomfortably.

“What the hell was that?” Luthor demanded, turning to glare at the pilot.

Luthor was answered promptly, however, when the entire side of the helicopter was peeled off, revealing an incredibly pissed off Superman, his eyes glowing red. Conner had never seen him so angry, not even when he’d fallen from the tree that one time. Superman fixed his gaze on Luthor and curled his lip.

“Luthor,” he growled, and Conner shivered. He knew Superman would never hurt anyone, not in a million years, but even being in the proximity of that kind of visceral hate was alarming.

“Mercy,” Luthor called, and the fear was evident in his eyes, though he kept a mostly cool exterior.

Mercy stood from her seat, the straps retracting. She lifted her arm and it opened somehow to reveal a weapon. Conner hardly had time to cry out before Superman had reached in and wrapped his hand around her arm, crushing the weapon and ripping the entire limb off of Mercy’s shoulder with a crunch of metal. A second passed in a shocked silence, before Superman gripped the front of Mercy’s shirt and simply tossed her out of the helicopter. Conner saw a white streak go by; Krypto caught Mercy and flew out of sight.

Conner couldn't take it anymore and let out a broken sob, “Superman,” he whimpered.

Superman turned to Conner, his face melting into concern and the angry red glow leaving his eyes, “Superboy,” he breathed, reaching forward. He ripped the seat belts away and gently gathered Conner into his arms, “I’ve got baby, I’ve got you,” he soothed as Conner buried his face into his neck, “Dad’s here, Dad’s got you.”

Conner hiccuped and wailed, a mixture of scared and relieved and tired and a bunch of other things that he couldn’t figure out right now. All that was important to him was that his dad had come for him. He was safe and his dad had come for him.

* * *

The relief that Superman had felt when he’d set his eyes on Conner nearly made him drop the helicopter. After gently extracting Conner from his seat and pulling him to his chest, taking a moment to feel his warm body against his own, Superman turned his attention back to Luthor. He could feel his eyes heat again, burning with the barely restrained urge to fry the bald asshole in his seat. How dare he,  _ how  _ **_dare_ ** _ he _ ?

Gritting his teeth, Superman let go of the helicopter, watching it fall for maybe ten stories before diving to catch it again (he didn’t  _ actually _ want to kill Luthor in a fiery wreck, but it was a near thing). He set the helicopter on the roof of a skyscraper, where Krypto already had Mercy pinned. Her remaining limbs had been torn off, as had a good chunk of her outer casing, including half of her face. Krypto stood on top of her, snarling and keeping his teeth on the back of her neck. She twitched once and he gave her a warning shake, making the mechanical eyeball that had fallen from it’s socket dance on the end of the wire that still connected it to her skull. Superman supposed he should feel bad, Mercy wasn’t exactly a soulless machine the same way the helicopter was—probably more akin to Red Tornado than anything else—but he wasn't really in the mood for it.

Luthor managed to crawl out of the ruined helicopter, “Mercy!” he called when he saw her. He glared at Superman, “You know she cost several billion to make?”

Superman glared, “I really couldn’t give a shit about your overpriced blow-up doll right now, Luthor,” he hissed. It was probably the rudest thing he’d ever said to anyone; even though he’d clashed with Luthor several times over the years, he’d retained an air of politeness. Now he was too mad to even think of all the lessons on manners his Ma had given him over the years.

Luthor was visibly stunned by Superman’s impoliteness as well, but he quickly schooled his reaction back into his cool facade, “That was entirely unnecessary,” he said, straightening his tie.

“And so was kidnapping Superboy,” Superman growled, his free arm coming up to span Conner’s back, feeling the wracking sobs shudder through his tiny body, “What the hell Luthor?”

Luthor raised a perfectly manicured eyebrow, “I was simply retrieving my property.”

“Your  _ property _ ,” Superman intoned, trying very hard not to just throw Luthor off the top of the skyscraper and be done with it.

“I’ve become the new Chairman of the Board at Cadmus,” Luthor explained, “Superboy is an incomplete project, and I was taking him for . . . routine maintenance.”

“He’s a child, not a machine,” Superman said, “And he doesn’t need anything from you.”

“I have plenty of reason to be in his life,” Luthor said, crossing his arms over his chest.

“You have no right to even  _ speak  _ him, Chairman or otherwise,” Superman said, careful not to raise his voice. Not so much for Luthor’s sake, but he didn't want to upset Conner any more.

“I have just as much right to him as you do.” Luthor gave a sardonic grin, “Who do you think donated the human DNA to his gene sequence?”

“You’re lying,” Superman accused, but he couldn't deny the small chill that ran up his arms at the thought.

“Now why would I do that?” Luthor asked rhetorically, knowing full well that they both knew he was a lying piece of shit (maybe Luthor wouldn’t put it that way, but the premise was still there).

Superman had had enough of this by this point, “I really don't care what your end goal is Luthor. If you come near my son again, I’ll tear more than a helicopter apart to stop you.”

Luthor narrowed his eyes, “Is that a threat, Superman?”

Faster than a speeding bullet, Superman was directly in front of Luthor, looming over him, eyes tinged red. “You know better than that Luthor. I don't make threats—” he leaned over a little, the red in his eyes glowing brighter, “I make  _ promises _ .”

Luthor, to his credit, didn’t flinch or back away; however, Superman could hear his heart rate spike, “I’ll keep that in mind,” he said evenly.

Superman didn't believe him for a second, but there wasn't much else he could do, and he could still feel Conner trembling against him. He pulled back from Luthor and stalked to the edge of the skyscraper, “Krypto, drop it,” he ordered.

Krypto let go of Mercy and trotted to Superman’s side, sniffing at Conner’s feet and whining, wanting to make sure his boy was okay. Superman felt very grateful that Krypto was such a good dog. Which reminded him. . .

“Also, shooting a dog? That’s low even for you,” Superman said before taking off into the sky, satisfied with getting the last word.

“How the hell am I supposed to get down from here?” Luthor said, though probably to himself than to anyone else. Superman couldn't help but crack a smile at that.

A hiccup reminded him of Conner’s needs. He clicked his comm on with his free hand, “Superman to Batman, I’ve got Superboy.”

“Is he alright?” Batman asked.

“He’s fine, but I need to take him home,” Superman said, resting his cheek on top of Conner’s head, “I’d come back to help with the clean up, but—”

“Don’t bother. Take care of Superboy,” Batman said, “I’ll let the others know.”

“Thank you, Batman,” Superman said. Batman made a noise of acknowledgement and closed the line. Superman put his hand on Conner’s back again and flew them in the direction of home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a little shorter than the other chapters I think, but there was no other way to end it without breaking the tone. Mercy kind of gets the shit kicked out of her here, but she's a robot so I don't think Clark feels too bad.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT'S DONE HOLY SHIT. I wrote this at the same time I was writing an essay for class so it was like a weird yoyo thing where I wrote this and then the essay and then this and then the essay and back and forth until this got finished. The essay is not done though. I'm so glad to have this finished though, it's been so much fun writing this. I'm 90% sure I'm going to do a sequel, but I'll probably take a break and write some other stuff first, then come back to it. All that being said, go ahead and read it!

Clark touched down on the balcony of his apartment and quickly got them both inside. He shut the sliding door, making sure Krypto was also safely inside. He let out a deep sigh and brought his free arm up to squeeze Conner’s still shaking body to him.

“Are you okay?” Clark asked, his voice shaking a little.

Conner hiccuped and nodded into his neck. A quick scan showed that there was no damage at all, though Clark had noticed there was a bright red mark across Conner’s cheek before he’d hid his face into Clark’s neck.

Heading to the couch, Clark sat down, situating Conner on his lap. Krypto followed nervously, but he didn’t jump up on the couch, which Clark was grateful for, since he was still covered in his own blood. Clark let Conner cry a little more, waiting for him to calm down a little.

When it seemed like Conner’s breathing was starting to even out, Clark gently pulled Conner back to get a better look at him. The control collar around his neck rattled slightly as he moved. The skin under the collar had gone white, an effect of the collar’s de-powering abilities. Metahuman control collars were generally unsafe for children under the age of fourteen, and most countries had laws against using them on children.

“Oh baby,” Clark said, “Come on, let me get that for you.” Gently, he took hold of the collar and used a low powered laser to cut it off. Clark quickly pulled the pieces off of Conner’s neck and tossed them aside to be discarded later. He tipped Conner’s head to get a better look at his neck, but the colour was already starting to return.

“There we go,” Clark said with a sigh, “That better?”

Conner nodded solemnly, putting his head back down and refusing to meet Clark’s eyes, “Hey, what’s wrong?” Clark asked, starting to worry.

A fresh flood of tears spilled down Conner’s cheeks, “I’m su-sorry,” he sobbed, “I’m so su-su-*hic* sorry.”

Clark was about to ask ‘what for’, but he guessed it was something to do with Conner being out in the streets rather than safely sequestered in Mount Justice. Clark let out a deep sigh, “Conner, why did you come to Metropolis? I told you it wasn't safe.”

Conner sniffled, “I w-wanted to help. There w-were people trapped and I th-thought I could help.”

Clark tried to think of a way he could put it, “It’s not so much about whether or not you can help, but whether or not it’s  _ safe _ to help,” he said, “You could have hurt someone by accident, and you nearly got taken because there was no-one around to protect you.”

Conner hiccuped and tried to wipe away his tears, “I’m sorry,” he whimpered.

Clark pulled Conner to his chest again, cradling him gently and resting his chin on top of his head, “Please don't ever do that again. There’s lots of ways to help without putting yourself in danger.”  _ Or nearly getting kidnapped by evil megalomaniacs _ , Clark thought, “I promise, if you really feel like you need to help, I’ll find something for you to do, but please never go out alone like that again.”

Conner nodded into Clark’s chest, lesson thoroughly learned. He clung to Clark, hands slipping a little on the slick fabric of his uniform. Clark pulled his cape out from under him and wrapped Conner in it, rocking him back and forth gently. They stayed that way for a long time, long enough that Clark was starting to think that Conner had fallen asleep.

“Are you mad at me?” Conner asked softly, startling Clark a little.

“No, I’m not mad at you,” Clark said, stroking Conner’s back, “None of this was your fault.”

“Does that mean I’m not in trouble?” Conner asked, and Clark couldn't help but smile a little at the note of hope in Conner’s voice.

“You’re in  _ big _ trouble, actually,” Clark said, “But it can wait until tomorrow.”

Conner made an unhappy noise and tensed, but since Clark didn't seem to be removing him from his lap anytime soon, or flying him off to be taken by someone else because he didn't want him anymore, he relaxed. Clark kissed the top of his hair, inhaling the dust that had settled into his black curls.

After a while, it seemed like Conner really had fallen asleep, but Clark didn't move just yet, too comforted by the weight and warmth of Conner’s body lying on top of him, by his steady, moist breath against his neck. Clark let out a long sigh, feeling Conner’s ribs expand with every breath under his hand. Krypto rested his head on Clark’s knee, also looking like he was about to fall asleep, but wanting to keep an eye on his boy and his master, just in case anything else happened.

_ “Who do you think donated the human DNA to his gene sequence?” _ Luthor had said, and the words chased around in circles in Clark’s head. Was Luthor telling the truth? Clark could usually tell lies from truth based on heart rate and other factors, and he hadn’t detected any lie, but Luthor was a very proficient liar. It was hard to say. It would make sense for Luthor to want to have a tie to a potential weapon against Superman, but using his own DNA to make a part-human clone of Superman? It seemed a little extreme, even for Luthor. He’d have to confirm it somehow. Clark resolved to bring the matter to Batman; he’d know where to start at least.

Clark was starting to drift off himself when Krypto’s ears perked and he twisted to look at the door. Clark almost tensed, but Krypto wagged his tail and gave a happy half-bark, so Clark knew it wasn't anyone dangerous. A knock came at the door, and that’s when Clark realized that he was still dressed as Superman.

“Just give me a minute,” he called, gathering the conked-out Conner into his arms and taking him to his room. He took off his shoes and tucked him into bed, wrapping his cape around his small body. Krypto hopped up onto the bed, curling around his boy and promptly falling asleep, just as exhausted as Conner was (thankfully the blood had dried, so there wouldn’t be any stains, only flakes of blood that he could easily wash off).

Changing out of his uniform and into regular clothes as quickly as possible, Clark went to answer the door, slipping on his glasses as he went. A quick scan through the door, however, showed that he didn’t need them. Groaning, Clark stowed the glasses in his pocket and opened the door, “Hey Lois,” he said.

Lois looked up at him, “Clark,” she said, “Can I come in?”

Clark stood aside to let her into his apartment, “I’m still getting things organized after the move, so sorry things are messy,” he said, “Would you like some coffee? Tea? Water?”

“Coffee, if you don't mind,” Lois said, standing a little awkwardly in his living room, “Where’s Conner?”

“Asleep,” Clark said, crossing to the kitchen and starting to put a pot of coffee on. He’d probably need a cup as well, “How did you know I was home?”

“Batman called to let me know,” Lois said, “So . . . You work with Batman a lot?” The awkwardness hung in the air like smoke.

Clark coughed, “Yes, though he can be a little uncooperative at times,” he said, filling the coffee maker with water, “Aside from that, he’s a good friend and great teammate.”

“I see,” Lois said. She put her purse down and sat his his kitchen table, “Clark . . . why didn’t you tell me?”

“I wanted to,” Clark said, maybe a touch too quickly, “Honestly, it’s been on my mind for a while, but you have to understand, it’s not something I can just toss around.” He turned to her, “There are people I have to protect, people that I love. They could get hurt if the wrong people knew who I was.”

“Right,” Lois said, looking away, “I . . . I understand that I guess. I’m still upset, but I get it.”

Clark sighed and sat down at the table with her, taking her hand in his, “Lois, I did want to tell you someday. I definitely didn’t want you to find out like this.”

Lois didn't say anything for a while, but as Clark was about to take his hand away, she turned hers and caught his fingers with her own. Clark smiled and stayed where he was for a while, letting Lois contemplate things in silence.

The coffee maker dinged and he finally got up to pour two cups. Deciding to show off a little, he used his super speed to arrange the cream and sugar on the table, as well as place the mug of coffee in front of Lois before ‘appearing’ back in his own seat. Lois jolted and blinked at him, glaring as he gave her an innocent smile over the rim of his own mug.

“Ass,” she huffed, but she was smiling now as well, “I can’t believe I was so stupid for not seeing it.”

“Me being an ass?” Clark asked, stilling grinning. It faded as he continued, “Or me being Superman?”

“Both,” Lois said, pouring a liberal amount of cream into her coffee, “It’s so obvious that I don’t know how I missed it. Your disguise is a pair of  _ glasses _ , Clark.”

“Well, it’s not really about the disguise,” Clark said, putting a scoop of sugar into his coffee and stirring, “It’s more about the attitude. The persona.” Squaring his shoulders, Clark drew himself to his full height, letting the power he held on a tight leash go a little.

Lois backed up a little, “Yeah, okay, I guess I see it,” she said, “But your disguise is still lame.”

Clark chuckled and let his shoulders relax, “Well, very few people think, ‘hey, my co-worker who looks a lot like Superman must  _ actually _ be Superman in his spare time’. Context is important. I once won a bet with Green Arrow by hanging out in Time Square in one of those Superman T-shirts. Not a single person recognised me.”

Lois laughed, “Alright alright, so I’m not that stupid,” she said, “Still an idiot though. I’ve been studying you for at least two years working on that exposé, and it never once crossed my mind that the guy sitting in front of me was the very same person.”

“Yes well,” Clark flushed a little, “I may have been subtly steering you away from the more personal things about me.”

Lois glared at him a little, though she didn’t seem angry at all, “So that stuff about being from another planet, did you just pull that out of your ass to throw me off or is there some truth to it?” she asked.

“It’s true,” Clark said, “I’m the last survivor of the planet Krypton, but I’ve spent most of my life on Earth.”

“Right,” Lois said, “How, exactly?”

Clark spent the hour explaining to Lois how Krypton had blown up, and how his biological mother and father had sent him to safety on another planet, this planet. He told her about his parents adopting him and raising him as their own, about discovering who he was as a teen, and eventually deciding to use his powers for good. She already knew about him, might as well let her in on the whole truth.

“So you  _ do _ have a secret base in the Arctic?” Lois asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes, it’s made out of part of an old Kryptonian ship,” Clark explained, “I keep a lot of alien tech there where no one but me can get to it.”

Lois nodded, “Makes sense,” she said. She glanced at the door to Conner’s bedroom, “And Conner? He’s an alien as well?”

Clark sucked in a breath, “Yes, but he’s part human,” he said.

“From his mother I assume,” Lois said, staring down into her coffee cup.

“Conner doesn’t have a mother,” Clark explained, “He’s a clone.”

Lois looked up at him in surprise, “A clone?” she questioned, “A clone of you?”

Clark nodded, “But not a complete one, hence the human parts,” he said, “He was artificially grown in a matter of weeks to the physical age of ten before we discovered him by accident.”

“That . . . actually that explains a lot,” Lois said, not looking comforted in the least, “So he’s only a few months old?”

“He was around two weeks old when you first met him,” Clark said, “It’s been a pretty wild ride, finding out about him and having to rearrange my whole life.”

“No fucking kidding,” Lois said, “No wonder you were having such a hard time at first.”

“It’s better now,” Clark said, “Clone or not, no matter where he comes from—” Clark felt his chest constrict, “He’s my son.”

Lois stared at him for a long moment, then smiled, “Good, I’m glad.” She reached over and rested her hand over his.

Clark returned the smile, and he could hear her heart rate pick up, his own starting to pound in response. The tension in the apartment grew palpable, heady and thick with possibility. Clark wondered if he should finally make a move, make things concrete with Lois. She already knew now, so there was no reason to dance around each other anymore.

Just as Clark was starting to lean forward, he heard the floor creak. Conner was standing in the doorframe of his bedroom, the cape still wrapped around him, looking a little distraught.

“Conner? You okay baby?” Clark asked, sitting back in his chair, but not pulling his hand away from Lois.

“I had a bad dream,” Conner said in a small voice. He glanced at Lois, obviously wondering if he was intruding.

“Uh oh,” Clark said, internally glad that it was something so mundane as a nightmare. He reached a hand out and beckoned Conner closer, “Come here, it’s alright.”

Conner crossed the floor quickly and wasted no time in curling into Clark, who lifted him up and settled him on his lap, holding him close. Clark tucked Conner’s head under his chin and gently rocked him, one hand splayed over his back and rubbing in gentle circles. He was so completely absorbed in making Conner comfortable for a minute that he was surprised when he looked up and noticed Lois smiling gently at the two of them. She looked so fond that Clark almost felt a little embarrassed by nearly forgetting that she was there, so focussed on his son.

Clark cleared his throat, “You want some hot chocolate, Conner?” he asked.

Conner nodded against his neck, not crying like he was before, but unhappiness radiating off of him like light from a naked bulb. Clark stood, putting one arm under Conner to support him, but he quickly realized that it was going to be very awkward to maneuver in the tiny kitchen holding Conner the way he was.

Lois realized this at almost the same time he did, “Conner? Want to sit with me on the couch while your dad makes hot chocolate?”

Conner pulled back to look up at Clark; Clark gave a small nod and set him down so he could walk with Lois to the living room, Krypto following to sit at Conner’s feet. Clark busied himself with making the hot chocolate, as well as making two more cups of coffee for himself and Lois.

When Clark finally comes back to the living room with the mugs and a dish of water for Krypto, Conner is curled up into Lois’s side, the cape spread over both of their laps like a blanket, Krypto settled at their feet, licking at the spot where the bullet had entered his side. Clark set down the water for him, which he lapped thirstily at, splashing it everywhere. Clark handed out the steaming mugs while Lois and Conner scooted over to make room for him on the couch, sandwiching Conner between the two adults.

Conner sipped at his hot chocolate, “Thank you,” he said softly.

“You’re welcome son,” Clark said, putting a little more emphasis on the last word. He’d been apprehensive about the word for so long, it almost felt like a relief to use it now.

Conner looked at at Clark and smiled, “Thanks dad,” he said, settling so he was leaning more against Clark.

Lois had the fond smile again, “Why don't we watch some TV for a bit? I’m sure there’s something on that isn’t news.”

“Sure, I think there’s supposed to be a marathon of The Great British Bake Off going on,” Clark said. At Lois’s raised eyebrow, Clark flushed, “My Ma got me into it. It’s very relaxing.”

Lois chuckled, “Sure, why not. That sound good to you Conner?”

Conner nodded and pulled the cape so it was covering him a little more. He seemed more content to just spend time with the two of them rather than interested in what was on TV.

The three of them sat and watched The Great British Bake Off for at least an hour, occasionally commenting on what was happening on screen. Conner curled up into Clark’s side, calm now but still feeling a little fragile from the day. Clark and Lois’s both had their arms laid over the back of the couch, their hands nearly touching; not holding at all, but close enough that they could if either of them reached out.

Eventually it was evident that Conner was about to nod off again. Clark turned the volume down on the TV and leaned over the young boy, “Come on, let’s get you washed up and changed into some pyjamas.”

“M’kay,” Conner hummed, rubbing his eyes a little. Clark coaxed him over to the bathroom to shower off all the dust, then went to find him some pyjamas, which he passed through a crack in the door.

Once Conner was washed and changed, Clark started leading him to his room to get some sleep, “Can I sleep in your bed dad, please?” Conner asked, squeezing Clark’s hand.

Clark felt his heart twist, “Sure,” he said, changing direction so they headed to the larger bedroom, “You want me to get Wolf?”

“I’ve got him,” Lois said, coming into the room carrying the stuffed toy.

“Thank you Lois,” Conner said, taking Wolf and climbing onto the bed.

Clark helped him settle down and tucked him in, “Got everything?” he asked.

Conner nodded, already drifting off. Clark smiled and leaned over to kiss his head, “Get some sleep son. Good night.”

“G’night dad,” Conner hummed, “Love you.”

“I love you too,” Clark said. With one final check to make sure Conner was fine and falling asleep even as he left the room, Clark shut the door and let out a long breath. He looked up when he heard Lois chuckle, “What?” he asked.

Lois was smiling fondly up at him again, “Nothing,” she said, “Just . . . you're a good father Clark.”

Clark felt his cheeks heat and his chest drum, “Thank you,” he said, returning her smile. After a moment he shifted, “Did you need to go soon? I think there’s some coffee left if you want some.”

“That’d be nice,” Lois said, “While we sit, we should probably talk about the exposé.”

“Ah, right,” Clark said, “I suppose we should.”

“Two years Clark,” Lois said, walking passed him to the kitchen, “I’ve been working on this exposé for  _ two years _ . If I scrap it now, it’d be career suicide.”

“I know,” Clark said, following her to the kitchen. Once she’d drained the carafe of coffee, he set about making another pot.

Lois leaned against the counter, “So, what do you want to do?” she asked, “This is your life.”

Historically, Lois had been very keen on getting the whole truth out of Superman, everything there was to know about him, and getting it out so the people could know exactly who their hero was. To someone else, this might seem like too big of a shift, like she was trying to protect him because she had a personal stake in things. Clark knew her better; as much as she thought getting the story to the people was important and should include all the important details, she understood that there were lives and privacy at stake. Clark couldn't very well do his job if he had people mobbing him at home because they knew Clark Kent was Superman. Or worse, someone might come after his parents, or Conner. Clark shuddered to think of what someone like Luthor would do if he knew where and how to get at Conner in his everyday life.

“We leave out Clark Kent,” Clark said, “We include all the things Superman is, him being the last son of Krypton and that he’s from another world and all that, but we leave out the part that he has a separate life outside of that. The world wants to know who Superman is, they couldn’t give a damn about Clark Kent.”

Lois hummed and took a sip of coffee, “So it’s a lie of omission?” she said.

“You’ve won a pulitzer, I still work out of a cubicle,” Clark pointed out, “If not doing the exposé is career suicide for you, what do you think will happen to me?”

“Touché,” Lois said, “So we focus on Superman, not Clark Kent,” she agreed. She cast a glance at his closed bedroom door, “What about Conner?”

“What about him?” Clark asked, though he had an idea of where this was going.

“All those people he helped today,” Lois said, “They’re going to talk, they’ve  _ already _ talked. How do you think Luthor got wind of him? The world is going to know about Superboy sooner or later. Do we include him in the exposé or do we try to hide him?”

Clark sucked the inside of his cheek, trying to think of the best course of action, “We don't have much of a choice  _ but _ to include him now,” he said with a sigh, “But we have to be smart about it.”

“Do we say he’s a clone or do we lie and say he’s your son?” Lois contemplated, staring into her coffee.

“He  _ is _ my son,” Clark said, though not very defensively, since he knew what she was getting at.

“Do you want to put that in the exposé? It will create a lot of questions that we won’t be able to answer without creating more lies. We could get caught out,” Lois said.

Clark sighed and ran a hand through his hair, “I don't want Conner to have to deal with people assuming he’s not . . . that he’s  _ less _ for being a clone. I want him to feel secure in in the fact that he’s my son,” he said, “If I have to make up some lies to do that, then I will.”

Lois smiled, “Alright,” she said, “We’ll figure something out.”

The two of them sat down and worked for about two hours, working out the logistics of what they would put into the exposé, what they would leave out, and what they would make up. The last part was the most difficult to deal with, because for every lie they made, they came across three different contradictions to it that they then needed to explain their way around.

Eventually, they had the bare bones of everything down; it would need more work done, but it was starting to get late, “Do you want to call a cab? I can fly you home if you want,” Clark offered, stifling a yawn. He was drained from everything that happened, “You can stay here if you want, but you’ll have to take the couch. I’d offer my bed, but, well . . .” He smiled tiredly.

“It’s fine,” Lois said, getting up to stretch. She deliberated for a moment, “I think I’ll stay over if you don’t mind.”

Clark stood and started gathering the empty mugs to put in the dishwasher, “I’ll get it set up for you. Just give me two seconds.”

“Let me get that,” Lois said, taking the mugs from his hand, “You go set up the couch.”

Clark nodded and went about getting the couch set up, tidying the apartment as he went. He had to pull several toys from between the couch cushions before he could even lay out the sheets.

Finally everything was set up, “I’ll get you something to wear in just a minute,” Clark said, trying to balance all of Conner’s toys in his arms. Usually he had Conner clean up his things before bed, but tonight it wasn’t going to be an option.

Lois chuckled and pulled the toys from his arms, “Go on, I’ll put these away,” she said.

Clark watched her for a moment, his chest feeling strangely warm as he observed her putting away his son’s toys. It was the same feeling he got when he watched her play with Conner, or saw the two of them interact in any way. It had been such a nebulous feeling, but as he watched her putter around his apartment, a singular thought crossed his mind.

_ She’d make a wonderful mother _ .

Clark shook himself out of it, putting that thought away for another time. He quietly crept into his room and found a t-shirt and sweatpants for Lois to wear. She’d swim in them, but it was better than sleeping in jeans.

Taking a moment to check on Conner, who was still fast asleep, Clark snuck back out of the room and found Lois waiting for him, “Here—” he passed her the clothes, “They’ll be big, but they’ll be comfortable.”

Lois took the clothes, “Can’t believe I’m finally staying the night with you only to sleep on the couch,” she teased, smiling wryly.

Clark chuckled, “Well, the bed might be a little crowded,” he said, “I promise, one day we’ll actually have a proper date.”

“In the meantime,” Lois said before Clark could start apologizing, “This is nice.” She smiled up at him, “I like spending time with you and Conner. He’s a good kid.”

Clark felt that warmth in his chest again, “Thanks,” he said, feeling awkward all of a sudden, “Conner really likes you as well.”

Lois smiled brightly. Before Clark could think to react, she stretched up to her toes and pressed her lips to his. She lingered for a moment, then started to pull away, but Clark followed her, reaching one hand up to gently cup her jaw. Lois hummed as he deepened the kiss, the air in the room suddenly electric.

Clark would have liked to kiss her more, but he was fully aware of Conner in the bedroom, so he had to pull away before things got too heated. He stayed close to Lois though, stroking her cheek with his thumb. Lois let out a sigh and nuzzled into his hand, her black eyelashes fluttering.

Lois looked up at him and smiled, “Goodnight Clark,” she said, not pulling away just yet, but her muscle tension telling him she was preparing to.

“Goodnight,” Clark replied softly. He dropped his hand and let her pull away.

Quietly Clark waited for Lois to finish getting ready for bed, making sure she had everything she needed before he finally turned in himself. He got changed lightning quick and finally crawled into bed. Conner snuffled and stirred a little before he rolled over and snuggled into Clark’s side, clinging to his shirt. Clark let out a long, exhausted sigh and wrapped his arm around Conner’s small body, while also putting one foot under Krypto's body where the dog was sleeping at the end of the bed. Clark closed his eyes and thought back to that day all those months ago, when he brought Conner home, Conner’s first day, and how so much had changed. In such a short time, things had changed so much, not only for Conner, not only in Clark’s life, but in his heart as well. He didn’t think he could have imagined loving something as much as he loved Conner now.

Pa’s words floated back to him, _ “Give yourself a little time,” _ he’d said. It had taken longer than Clark had thought it would, but he couldn’t deny that his Pa had been solid in his advice. Some things, even love, took a little time and dedication.

Clark let out another long sigh and extended his hearing, listening to the three other heat beats in the apartment; Lois, Krypto, and Conner, reassuring himself that they were all strong and steady, safe and sound and within reach. Clark fell asleep to the sound of the steady drumming, content that all was alright in the world for now. There were still things he would need to deal with come morning, questions that would need answers and problems that would need solutions, but for now he was at peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there you have it! That's the end of the first part of this series. It probably only going to be this and the sequel, but I am going to do a sort of mid-quell series of one shots of Conner growing up. Y'all can check out my writing tumblr [here](https://mishaberrywrites.tumblr.com) for more stuff if you want, as wells commission rates! It's been great fun and you guys are an awesome readership!


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